The Pipa Player
by PetertheChameleon
Summary: 1,000 years ago, an Avatar faces a plot by his own country to control him or to destroy the cycle itself. Haunted by the memory of a past Avatar, he travels to save his friends and to stop a war. But help may lay with a dark and ancient spirit.-Completed-
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Avatar: The Last Airbender and all related trademarks, logos, catchphrases, mottos, haikus, and sports memorabilia are property of Michael DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko, and Nickelodeon. No money is being made on this and it will be removed upon request of the copyright owners. The original characters belong to me in essence only.

* * *

Time.

What a ridiculous notion. Koh didn't think he even had a face to express how laughable it really was. But humans not only lived by it—they fought for it. They fought _over _it, each person grasping for fleeting moments like raindrops in a parched desert. They anticipated the good times, they looked back on the old ones, and in their minds, there was always time enough to do what they needed to do, until there was no time left at all.

Koh supposed that strange definition—of time as a finite resource—came about because humans could not separate their existence from their own perception of time. It moved differently for them depending on their moods, sometimes as quick as arrows, sometimes as slow as mountains. But it always moved forward.

That wasn't time. The world existed upon a circle, so wide that everyone who ran it looked ahead to see only a straight line. Thus they didn't see that this rock was one they had seen before, when younger feet made the journey. They didn't realize how many infinite sunsets had already plunged them into night. They walked, with the assumption that when they rested, they would have reached their destination.

Not knowing that there never could be one.

Koh knew. So it was with a mixture of amusement and pity that he watched the mortals dance through their routines, as if they had never danced through them before. They sang songs of lies, of 'past,' 'present,' and 'future,' and kept beat with the stores of their dwindling years. In return, they gained appreciation of their brief existences, hoping that this one insignificant life might make a change in the circle they didn't even know they followed.

Insignificant.

Koh, however, did have a past. Not a beginning, not an ending—but simply a past. His existence was defined by 'being' and 'not being.' Koh had always _been_, and he knew he always _would be_. But there was a time when he had _not been_ in a cave, and there was a time when he had _not been _able to save himself, even against a mere mortal. To him, these seemed like bumps that moved the circle—moments that would not come again, and the only ways in which he could mark the passage of his own 'time.'

Such as the eighth time the Avatar visited him, a mere airbender child who did not remember the times before, as if this instance were unique. As if no other Avatar had thought to solicit the knowledge Koh had gained simply by remembering. He represented the last of his kind, and heralded the destruction of the Balance as both man and spirit knew it. Time would continue, of course—Koh would continue to be, but the circle would not quite be the same in its next revolution.

Koh cherished those moments.

Of course, the events that led up to this change were merely the successors of a long chain of the same events. Genocide of the Air Temples, a war between the Fire Nation and Water Tribes—they had all had their iterations, until even Koh with his timeless memory could not differentiate between them.

One, however, did stand out. It was one event that, much like the last airbender, marked a change in Koh's existence. When a great war between the nations spawned an Avatar who would make the sixth visit to Koh's lair. And when Koh so narrowly avoided ceasing 'to be' and swiftly becoming 'had been.'

It began with a particular year, like a thousand other years, that saw the death of a certain community. And this particular war, like a hundred other great wars, began with one arrogant Fire Prince who wanted too much.

—

**_Yang Chong Year of the Crab-Rabbit, Sixth Month_**

**_897 years before the Air Nomad Genocide_**

**_997 years before the defeat of Fire Lord Ozai_**

—

The scene Yojing walked in on was chaotic—more chaotic than it had been even in the previous year, when news of Rajio Bay reached them. The low-set table of the Fire Palace council room was practically ignored, nearly every man on his feet, be he an aged general or a lowly attendant. The red lanterns in the wall reflected off faces that sweated more out of panic than heat, as all of those in attendance screamed at each other.

"What proof do they have?" That man was dressed in the copper-studded mantle of a naval officer, though Yojing didn't know his name. Yojing didn't know most of these men's names, in fact, as he rarely ever attended council meetings. He was too young and too unimportant of a Fire Sage, his brown hair contrasted with their graying temples.

"Armor was everywhere, Samnang," another man shouted, apparently either a peer or a superior. Or perhaps the conversation had degraded to the point where there was no formality anymore. "_Naval_ armor. Not to mention the witnesses-"

"A lie!" Lieutenant-Colonel Zhen snarled savagely. Aside from Yojing, he was the youngest man in that room, his sideburns engulfing half his cheeks. And aside from the Fire Lord, he was the only one seated. His skin tinged with a color just shy of purple, he gripped the table as if he could snap the wood. "There were no witnesses. All reports listed them as dead. The Water Tribe is lying to us!"

"What's going on?" Yojing whispered, though he hardly expected the Great Sage to hear him. They both stood just inside the curtained door, spectators to some violent drama that had been playing long before they arrived.

The Great Sage Wuzhong leaned near him, the red lamps reflecting in eyes that had looked incredibly sad for most of their journey to the Palace. "The Western Air Temple has been massacred." He spoke in a murmur, his voice nearly swallowed by the cacophony, and Yojing for a moment thought he'd misheard.

"The Air Temple?" No. That made no sense. He stared at Wuzhong as if there'd been a mistake. Wuzhong simply stared back. "But…how…?"

A middle-aged, unnamed man on the Fire Lord's left interrupted before he could answer. "Those reports were unconfirmed, Lieutenant-Colonel, and all _new_ reports from that region are conflicting. We think the novices may have survived."

That renewed the clamor of the large, red room, the twenty or so men shouting to be heard over each other.

"We're listening to the word of twelve-year-old girls?"

"No one authorized an attack! His Lordship authorized no attack!"

"Where were _your_ men, Commander Izumo? Weren't they the ones organizing the barricade?"

The barricade, yes. Put in place around the Cloudless Isles to isolate the Air Temple. To seal in the exiled Fire Prince. Again, Yojing bowed his head close to Wuzhong, certain to maintain a level of reverence as he spoke. "If the Air Nuns are dead, then what about Prince Zenshi?"

Wuzhong's expression grew more somber, if such was possible. "The Fire Prince has not yet been found. Nor the Water Tribe Princess."

Zenshi. The entire reason this war was started. No, that wasn't true, and Yojing had to chastise himself for being foolish. Zenshi was simply the excuse they all used to keep from blaming themselves. But now he was gone, and with him their scapegoat. Perhaps that was why the men fought so angrily.

Yojing's eyes were drawn to Fire Lord Kapil, who sat at the head of the table, his gaze on the wood in front of him as if he didn't hear a word of the bickering. He looked much older than he had a couple of years ago, the wrinkles around his mouth pronounced, eyes sunken under a brow that had always been heavy, but even more so now. The life had been slowly sucked out of him, leaving nothing behind but a beaten man.

Kapil might have been the one to banish his own child for crimes against the Fire Nation, but he had done that as Fire Lord. As a father, he had lost his dearest son. Now, these men arguing over who to blame for the murder of a hundred women didn't realize that their leader was dwelling silently on the fate of one boy.

"They're going to bring Sidhari into this." Zhen nearly spat the Avatar's name, and the noise died down enough for him to be heard. "The Water Tribe planned this so she'd finally have to intervene."

"Zhen, you're being ludicrous," a general protested, shaking his gray, top-knotted head. "The Water Tribe would not slaughter an entire Temple to make the Avatar act."

"The Fire Nation would not slaughter an entire Temple to do away with one arrogant former-Prince!" That caused another shouting match, and Yojing could see Kapil wince in pain. He had other sons—Pran, merely a boy, and Kanzagan, just a baby—but none of that mattered. Zenshi was his eldest. And though Yojing was only twenty-nine, not yet with children of his own, he suspected he knew how strong the bond was between a father and his oldest son.

"Enough!" Kapil's voice boomed over the argument, and suddenly, all chatter ceased in the face of his famous temper. He rose now to his knees, his face darkening as he pressed the knuckles of his fists into the table. "I don't _care_ who did or did not do this. Be it us, the Water Tribe, or the spirits themselves. The fact is, it's done and we are being blamed. So I don't want to hear you fight over who is to take responsibility. I want you to tell me what we are going to do to save this nation _when_—no, not 'if'—_when_ Sidhari intervenes!"

That demand was met with perfect silence, the men finally finding the will to seat themselves on their crimson cushions once more. Perhaps sensing that if they stood, they might be called on for a solution. But Kapil didn't seem bothered by their inability to answer, as if the command were simply to give him an outlet for his own emotions.

When his color had returned to a more normal shade, he spoke again, his voice softer. "We will offer aid to the Air Nomads, but we will not go near the Western Temple. Whatever we do there will be seen as an attempt to cover something up. Sidhari will likely call a council, and so I want all diplomatic fleets mobilized. I even want some of the warships converted for that purpose. There should be a representative in every country, every region, trying to sway people to our side. And I want this done immediately."

Finally, his eyes rested on Wuzhong, and though neither Sage had been recognized for the entire exchange, Kapil seemed to have known they were there all along. "Your Eminence, I understand you've long been friends with Sidhari."

"Our friendship extends many years, yes." He folded his hands in his sleeves, his shoulders pulled back in a way that demanded respect.

"Will you speak to her on our behalf?"

"Avatar Sidhari does not leave Ba Sing Se too often. I doubt I'll even see her."

"I imagine we'll be seeing a lot more of her in the days to come." Kapil's response was muttered, as if only meant for him to hear, and his attention slipped back to the men at the table.

But before Yojing could catch the rest of the Fire Lord's instructions, Wuzhong disappeared through the curtained door behind them, leaving him to follow.

"Your Eminence?" Yojing asked curiously as they exited the room, though the Great Sage didn't slow. In the dim red lamps of the hallway, he was an awesome figure, his wide robes sweeping behind him, his topknot bearing a sharp, five-point flame.

"His Lordship had no other need for us, Yojing, and you would have likely grown bored with the meeting."

Yojing honestly doubted that, but he wouldn't argue. In reality, getting out of that room was a relief, the anxiety and desperation among those men almost stifling.

"Will you seek out Avatar Sidhari, Your Eminence?" he asked cautiously, knowing he shouldn't ask at all. But Wuzhong had put faith in him by taking him to the council meeting. And Yojing hoped that he hadn't yet pushed the limits of the Great Sage's good will.

"I don't think I'll need to." He sounded weary, as if suddenly feeling his age. "Sidhari will not let this pass. Not this time."

"After everything else she's ignored…" Yojing didn't mean to let such rancor slip into his voice. But Wuzhong must have heard it, for he stopped abruptly, turning to face him.

"No, Yojing. That's not why I brought you here." He looked so earnest, thin eyebrows furrowing over haunted eyes, the wrinkles around his nose deepening as he frowned. "Not to regret, not to blame."

"Why _did_ you bring me, Your Eminence?"

"To understand." With a sigh, he caught up the edge of his robe as he continued walking. "We are entering into a very troubled time. Even more troubled than the last three years. And I fear what will happen." Yojing trailed behind him, his eyes cast to the floor as the older man talked. His thoughts, too, were on the future. Murky, uncertain, and terribly scary.

"However," Wuzhong said, his voice now stern, "if we continue to live in the past, we will be no better than that room full of quarreling men back there, trying to find someone to blame. You must move beyond that, Yojing. You _must_ remain alert."

"Alert for what, Your Eminence?"

"For the center, Yojing. For the center."

The statement was cryptic, vague at best. But Wuzhong offered no other explanation, and Yojing suspected he was doing so on purpose. Resisting the urge to sigh, Yojing paused as the Great Sage bended open a tunnel in the wall.

With a final glance at the Palace's red halls, he followed his master into the dark.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

—

**_Tan Zheng Year of the Ostrich-Horse, Fourth Month_**

**_2 years later_**

—

The rain was soft, whispering like a chorus of hushed voices through the window pane. Outside, the world was a mute gray, dim though it was just past noon. Everything was hazy, made hazier by the steady shower, and the scarlet tiles on sweeping roofs directed excess water out of the mouths of green dragon spouts. Down the water coursed, into the cisterns below. Collected so that the moss-carpeted garden would not be swamped by the spring monsoons.

A common enough occurrence in the Fire Nation, particularly the Eastern Isles. Common enough that the farmers faced them with determination, and fishermen secured their boats against the inevitable waves. Every year, they prepared themselves for the seasonal storms. Every year, they awaited a torrent that would cease just as the months grew warm.

This year, however, was different. This year, there was a distinct hint of dread mixing with the taste of ash and the smell of wet basalt. Beyond those jade dragons undulating along the roof gutters, the world had drastically changed over the course of a cold spring and an even colder winter. Beyond the Temple walls, no one was prepared for the storm ahead.

Still, Fire Sage Himizu enjoyed the rain. He watched it from the window, his formal robes tucked up around his knees, his hat clutched between his hands. The wood bench on which he sat was placed perpendicular to the opening, such that he had to crane his neck to the right to see the rain-swept trees. On his left was a lacquered wood screen of flames and fire lilies—a privacy screen that hid both bench and window from the rest of the room.

Because of it, Himizu didn't see the other Sage until he'd approached near enough for his shadow to fall across the marble floor, black against the light of the red lantern. With a frown, he glanced forward, and was greeted by Shinyo.

Shinyo was of a lower rank, marked by his short sleeves where Himizu's were long. And his short tunic where Himizu's fell to the floor. Accordingly, Shinyo dipped into a low bow, his tall, conical hat in his hands.

"The hour has come and passed, Fifth Sage."

Fifth Sage. Himizu wasn't used to that title yet, as he'd only been recently raised to it. At his age—no more than twenty-seven—he was the youngest man to ever attain such a lofty title. The fifth most powerful person in the Shiri Temple. The one who saw to the daily functions of the entire grounds.

Yet Himizu, surprisingly, wasn't much of a bender. In an _Agni Kai_, he'd be easily outmatched by even fourth level Sages. No, he hadn't come to this position by talent or even ability. Rather, his achievements were all due to his intelligence. Something that had had, in retrospect, a much larger impact on his life than even his mediocre firebending.

Something that he also employed right now, as he regarded a man of lower rank but not much younger age. "Are they waiting at the moon gate?"

"For hours, Fifth Sage."

"Has the pantry been informed?"

"The Kitchen Head is awaiting your command."

Beggars. Years ago, Himizu would have viewed them with disdain, unimpressed by their cries of hunger and their pleas for hand-outs from the Temple. After all, they were as often as not men. Men who'd happily push past orphans and widows, claiming that their own families were starving more. Men who couldn't accept that suffering was one thing that came in large enough portions for everyone to share in equally.

But then there'd been Sidhari's decision against the Fire Nation, and against those who had aided them in the War. Within a year, she'd established the sanctions—the physical embargo that separated them from the outside world. So that now _everyone_ was a beggar, be they a professional malingerer or an honest merchant.

"How much petitions-bread is left?" Himizu said, pushing himself up from the bench. With one last look out the window, he shoved his shorter hat onto his head, its stiff, leather-backed silk crimped where he'd held it.

Shinyo stepped out of his way, once more bowing as Himizu brushed past. "Twenty loaves, not counting those reserved for the Temple staff's families."

"Then we'll have to start rationing." He headed for the door, the sparsely decorated room around him ignored. This meditation room had become his frequent retreat from the daily demands of the Temple, but he could not hide there today. "Order a portion no thicker than two thumbs given to each petitioner. They'll complain, but I want the hard bread to last us until the end of the monsoons."

Shinyo followed at the hem of his robe. "And the petitions-fruit?"

"Never mind the fruit. I checked yesterday and all we have left are kumquats and ocean-crests. I intend to save those for the students, before our own rations run too low."

"They're also requesting oil."

Himizu closed his eyes as he grasped the iron ring of the narrow door. Oil was another item that they were learning what it meant not to have. With a shake of his head, he bended the single lantern out and pulled the door open. "No oil."

"But Fifth Sa—"

"No oil," he repeated firmly, not even checking to see if Shinyo followed him into the hall. He was sure the Sage had. "We still have the prayers to think of. And I would rather we sacrifice our luxury before our spirituality. They'll learn to do without." No, he didn't like telling the people waiting outside the Temple gates that they would not be given charity. But there was no charity left to give. Himizu had to make sure the Temple survived, first and foremost.

It was the oath he had taken as a boy. The Temple before all others.

Shinyo was silent, perhaps laying the blame of such parsimony at Himizu's feet. Perhaps accusing him quietly of having no mercy. But this was not his fault, as he partly wanted to explain to the Sage. They'd been forced into this situation by a woman who had used her power to punish an entire people for a crime they had never committed.

He wanted to tell Shinyo that if those desperate faces and broken eyes really tore at his heart, then he should blame the Avatar for caring even less than Himizu did.

But instead, he ignored Shinyo's invisible look and swept down a hall lit by only four of the fifteen lamps. As Fifth Sage, he could not – would not – explain himself to a lower-ranking Sage. Not even if it was a man who had been his friend in childhood.

Still, Himizu hesitated, his thoughts dwelling on the neighboring villages. "Tell Master Eng that the men of known dignity should receive extra rations for their families, and that women and children petitioners should receive double rations. If any other men complain, have the acolytes escort them physically from the grounds, with or without their own rations." It was an unfair proclamation, particularly for the more destitute. But Himizu had been struck with a twinge of compassion, and he'd let it, momentarily, cloud his judgment.

The decision was made, though, and he couldn't take it back. Perhaps, Himizu mused, by giving more bread to some and less to others, he would foment a riot. Perhaps he was setting them on a path to the Temple's destruction. Forcefully, though, he shoved away the thought. He refused to let this weigh on his conscience. Not when there was someone else far more to blame.

"Save as much bread as you can. I plan for us to make it to the first harvest, at least." Reaching the end of the hall, Himizu turned to extinguish the lamps. Whatever they could do to conserve oil. To keep the Temple going until Avatar Sidhari deemed in her oh-so-_benevolent _majesty to save them from the very misery she'd inflicted.

What good, he wondered, was an Avatar who could hurt so many? What good was it to give so much power to one so terribly wrong?

Frowning miserably, Himizu stepped into the adjacent hall, Shinyo on his heels.

Only the sound of rain on clay tiles broke the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: **First off, this story features an almost entire cast of OCs. The only canon character, in fact, is Koh. This story began as a story about _him_, or rather the Avatar who tangled with him, back before we really knew about Kuruk. As far as I'm concerned, this takes place about 300 years before Kuruk, and should actually by the end explain why Koh was against Kuruk to begin with.

Also, the Western Air Temple Massacre was purposefully designed to mirror the Air Nomad Genocide. The cycling of history's an important theme, and I wanted to parallel it in many ways to the series itself.

Also-also, the years are from the calendar seen in 2x10 The Library and should be correctly calculated from the year identified in that episode. Translated, they'd be something like "_Molten/Slothful Worship_ Year of the Rabbit" and "_Right Level_ Year of the Horse." Yes, my inability to speak Chinese sucks. Yes, that's why I just left them in Pinyin.


	2. Of Pranks and Change

**Chapter 1 - Of Pranks and Change**

* * *

—

**_Zhi Huan Year of the Ostrich-Horse, Fifth Month_**

**_36 Years Later_**

—

"Ready?"

"I don't know…"

Hikoshu gave a frustrated groan, pulling at his cheeks in exaggeration. "What is it _now_?"

Yu Ping, crouched beside him, shook his head and peeked between the rotund balusters. "I mean, what if someone sees me?"

Hikoshu blinked, then followed his gaze out past the terrace. Below them, the courtyard was empty, its white stone buildings bereft of their usual Fire Palace officials. "Who's going to see you? The toucan-frogs?"

"Hikoshu, I don't want to get into trouble." All of a sudden, Yu Ping seemed every bit the boy he was. No more than twelve, he rubbed at his bare arm nervously and focused his eyes on the granite beneath his sandals, his thin features set in doubt.

Hikoshu tried not to sigh. He didn't recall being so impossible when _he_ was twelve. "Why do you have to be such a chicken-hog?"

"Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Listen, you're not going to get in trouble. I swear. And have I ever fallen through on my promises before?" For effect, Hikoshu threw in a quirky grin. But Yu Ping looked less than amused.

"The egg custard incident? The komodo rhino incident? The rock garden inci—?"

"How do you remember all that?" Hikoshu interrupted, stunned. "That was, like, two years ago!"

"They don't let us students come to the Fire Palace too often," Yu Ping continued, his young face twisted into a frown. "If I get caught, they may not let me come back at all."

"What's so interesting about the Palace, anyway?" Sullenly, Hikoshu glanced over the courtyard again. There wasn't much to see beyond the walls that surrounded this particular complex, willow trees just barely visible in the distance. The sun hung low in the sky, which meant the red tiles were just starting to catch its light, setting the compound aglow.

Still, he remembered only a few years ago when he was also a student, eager to see anything that wasn't the Temple pagoda.

"Alright, fine. You don't have to help me get into the herbalist's shop, but I _do_ need you to sneak into the guardhouse." Hikoshu pointed at a round window located in the wall nearly two stories above them. "That window's too small for me to crawl through." _And too high_. He didn't add this last thought, as Yu Ping didn't need to know he was deathly afraid of heights.

Yu Ping screwed his nose up as he studied the latticed window and scratched idly at his red cotton uniform. "Why can't we use the front gate again?"

"Because unlike this window, there are actually people watching that." With a quick, stealthy look about the terrace, Hikoshu stood. "I'll just bend you up there, and you crawl through. Inside, there should be a large iguana-stag's head. He hangs the keys on the horns."

Yu Ping was still nervous, his eyes locked on the window as he also stood. "Are you sure you could bend me that high?"

"Spirits, Yu Ping, can you _be_ a bigger coward? I'd do it in a heartbeat if I could bend myself." No, he wouldn't. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Finally, the boy nodded, taking courage in Hikoshu's self-assuredness. And for the most part, Hikoshu was pretty confident. After all, he'd gotten away with this prank before. They'd made it a little more difficult because of that, but Hikoshu had a head for getting around rules.

"Ready now?" Facing his back to the wall, he weaved his fingers together to form a stirrup, and Yu Ping put his little foot in Hikoshu's grip.

"You sure I won't get in trouble?"

"Trust me. I'll make certain of it."

And then, with a strong heave, Hikoshu airbended Yu Ping at the window.

Honestly, he'd never tried airbending something as heavy as a twelve-year-old boy. So he was pretty delighted when it actually worked. More or less. Yu Ping undershot the window by almost a foot, but at least he managed to catch the sill. With a terrified shout, he clung to the stone, then pulled himself onto the narrow ledge.

"Don't yell!" Hikoshu hissed, darting a glance along the terrace.

"Don't be such a lousy bender!" Yu Ping retorted as he folded his knees under him. With a grunt, he pushed on the lattice.

It didn't budge.

"Hikoshu, the window's locked."

Well, that put a kink in the plans. Shading his eyes with his hand, Hikoshu squinted up at the boy. "Give it a good shove."

"I am. It's not moving."

"Try wiggling it."

"_You_ wiggle it. It's locked on the inside."

Hikoshu was disappointed, but not deterred. And he would've continued tossing out suggestions, had not a group of five men chosen the perfectly worst time to appear.

They came around the distant corner of the terrace, walking in symmetric formation from the front of the Ancestors' Gate. Their long, heavy robes marked them as Eminent Fire Sages, their faces hidden in the shadows of their short, oval hats.

"Hey! Stay quiet," Hikoshu shouted in a near-whisper, going rigid as he turned to face their new visitors.

"What?" Yu Ping said rather loudly, but Hikoshu ignored him, brushing at his own billowy, crimson robes, now wrinkled from a whole morning of skulking. His hat had gone missing some hours before, such that only a loose topknot held back his black hair. A veritable image of mischief, but he tried to assume a look of august indifference.

A pretense made for the five men who slowed to a stop before him. But his heart sank as he quickly recognized the man in the lead as Second Sage Baocai.

"I didn't do it this time," Hikoshu said automatically, his shoulders slumping in anticipated rebuke. Though why Baocai needed four Sages to do it, he couldn't guess. "I wasn't even at morning prayers."

Baocai stared at him with a stern, ill-humored glower. "Didn't do what?"

Well, saltpeter. Apparently he'd made a gross miscalculation. "Nothing."

Baocai's wide face seemed to swell even wider with his ire, and he had to press his thick lips together to avoid whatever angry outburst he was about give. "Sage Hikoshu, your presence has been requested by your master."

_Sage_ Hikoshu? He hadn't heard that one in a while, and uncomfortably, he looked to each of the Sages. Their expressions were blank, giving no hint about this apparent meeting.

"Yeah, sure," he said uncertainly, folding his hands into his copious red sleeves. "I'll be there in a bit."

"The meeting, I'm afraid, requires your immediate attention," Baocai pressed, under which Hikoshu heard the implicit message. _You're leaving now_.

"Alright, that's, uh…" Could he really leave Yu Ping on the window sill until after the meeting? Hikoshu wanted to sneak a glance to see if he'd gotten in the room, but he didn't dare risk it. "This is kind of a bad time, Second Sage. How about I just meet you there?"

Baocai's glare was enough of an answer. "Just _why_ is this a bad time, Master Hikoshu?"

"Because…well…"

"Hikoshu!" was the only warning he had to look up. And when he did, Hikoshu found himself just under Yu Ping, who was quickly hurtling toward him. With a shout of surprise, he threw up a reflexive air blast, which slowed the boy's descent. Enough, at least, that when he landed on Hikoshu, he was only moderately plowed into the stone.

"Student Yu Ping," Baocai said blandly as the two picked themselves up. "Why aren't you with your training class?"

Yu Ping's back when straight with terror, his eyes as wide as tea saucers. "I-I'm sorry, Second Sage! Hikoshu made me do it!"

Rubbing his shoulder, Hikoshu shot the shorter boy a sour look. Yu Ping could've at least _faked_ some loyalty before throwing him under the metaphorical komodo rhino. But then he nodded. "Yeah, I pulled him out of the afternoon session. You can verify with Fourth Sage Lao Shi."

Without turning around, Baocai snapped, "Sage Shohei, escort Yu Ping back to his class." In response, one of the Sages in the back nodded and stepped out of formation to wave the boy on. Yu Ping gave Hikoshu a final glance of guilt and blame before following.

Hikoshu waited until both were out of earshot before he spoke. "It really wasn't his fault. I threatened him with extra kitchen duties if he didn't help me." That wasn't true, but it sounded better than coercion through fruit pies.

Baocai held up a hand to stop the excuses, his eyes falling closed in a look of strained sufferance. "I don't care what you were doing here. I'm sure I'll find out about it later, anyway." The last part was muttered as he turned on his heel, and the other three Sages did the same. Then there was nothing to do but to follow them.

They met no one along the way, though Hikoshu didn't know what 'along the way' was and no one bothered to tell him. They were traversing the entire Palace—which was literally a city within a city—and Hikoshu suspected they were heading for the the Fire Lord's Seat, its white tower looming in the distance.

Eventually, his suspicion was proven correct, as they crossed the East Dragon Gate into the Courtyard of the Flames. Aptly named, it was lined with twelve or so fire pots that were supposed to burn all the time, but in reality only burned at night or on holidays. Instead, the surrounding buildings had been garishly decorated in copper flames that stuck from the spines of their roofs. Of course, with time, they'd turned green, which had given the Courtyard its other name – the Jade Flame Yard.

As evidenced by history, the Fire Nation wasn't terribly creative when it came to naming things.

They mounted the stairs of the Seat and passed through its gold doors, etched with basilisk-rams. And just on the inside, they were greeted by his master, Yojing.

"Hikoshu," the elderly man said, giving a deep bow that wrinkled his own Sage's robes, and Hikoshu returned the bow with reverence. Yojing then glanced to Baocai, who recognized the silent command that he was dismissed. Though, as Second Sage, Baocai was technically superior in rank, no one short of the Great Sage disobeyed Yojing. With a few more humble bows, the four Sages made their departure, leaving them alone.

Yojing placed himself beside Hikoshu, his expression harsh. "We're running late." Without another word, the older Sage began walking, forcing him to follow.

They continued into the depths of the Fire Lord's Seat in silence, the air between them tense. It gave Hikoshu time, though, to study his master's profile. Yojing's face glowed red in the lamplight of the halls, his full, gray beard tinged as with blood. He stood nearly a head taller than Hikoshu, and the severe angles of his face made him seem intimidating. Yet there was something gentle in his eyes, too. Hikoshu had always known Yojing to be kind and fierce at the same time; a man who could be either a teacher or a friend, depending on what Hikoshu had just done. He both respected and feared his master. And loved him.

Yojing finally broke the silence, his dark eyes trained forward. "I suppose I was correct in assuming you were at the guardhouse again."

"Yes." Hikoshu didn't even bother with the excuses. If anyone could make him feel humble—and contrite—his master could. "I'm sorry, Master Yojing."

"Hikoshu," he said, his voice weary, "you must stop antagonizing the Sages of the Fire Temple. You have to remember that you yourself are now a Fire Sage."

"I'm a Fire Sage of the Kumana Temple," Hikoshu replied, his eyes trained on the thin red carpet that filled the center of the hall. They were coming upon the Throne Room now, its doors displaying a gold sun. "Not the Fire Temple."

"You are a Sage, regardless of what Temple." Yojing's tone was severe. "You should show respect to your order and respect to those who are not of your order."

"Why?" Hikoshu couldn't hide his bitterness. "None of them show any respect for me."

"Hikoshu—"

"The Fire Temple Sages don't like me, Master Yojing. They haven't liked me ever since…" He trailed off sadly and shook his head. "I'm sorry if my actions bring shame on our Temple. I just…" He just wanted to go home, back to the Kumana Temple. Where he wasn't surrounded by hateful glares and offended self-righteousness. He wanted to be a normal Sage.

Even if Hikoshu didn't admit his sadness aloud, Yojing could hear it in his voice. Yojing knew everything about him, including the things that he himself didn't know. "With time, Hikoshu, everything changes. We grow older, we discover new responsibilities. We become different men. We can't cling to the past and use that as a measure of the future."

"I feel like a lot more keeps changing for me than anyone else, though."

"It always feels like that when you're young." Yojing's severe gaze finally broke with a smile, and he looked to Hikoshu out of the corner of his eye. "Did you get into the guardhouse this time?"

"The window was locked."

Yojing laughed at that – a deep, rich laugh that made Hikoshu smile, too. They'd come upon the doors now, two red-armored guards stepping forward from their posts to push them open. The sun, outlined in gold, cracked down the center as the two doors swung onto the immense throne room.

And Hikoshu almost walked right into two people exiting the chamber just as they were entering. Giving a grunt of surprise, he stepped out of the way and dipped into an automatic bow. The two people hurried by without returning it, and he looked up at the last moment to study them.

One of them was a middle-aged man, tan and squat, his frame wreathed in dark greens that almost looked black in the deep red glow of the lamplight. He seemed in a rush, and Hikoshu immediately labeled him as an Earth Kingdom official—some ambassador, or diplomat, or merchant. The kind of person who was always around the Fire Palace. The second person, though, was the one who caught his eye.

The girl behind him had to be not much older than Yu Ping, possibly some nobleman's daughter. Still a child, she looked gawky, her tan and gold silk robes hanging loosely from her frame. But when she passed him, she met his gaze with two large brown eyes, both confident and fearful. The moment was disconcerting, for some reason Hikoshu couldn't quite place. A moment later, she had moved on, her focus shifting to something else as the Earth Kingdom man led her down the hall.

Hikoshu watched her walk away for so long that only Yojing's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Startled, he looked up at his master, who no longer seemed amused. In fact, he looked rather…somber.

"Come, Hikoshu. We have a meeting with the Fire Lord."

He'd gathered as much from the fact they were about to enter the Fire Lord's throne room, but Yojing's mood had changed so quickly that he was apprehensive anyway. With an uncertain nod, he entered the chamber, the older Sage still holding his shoulder.

A few years ago, Hikoshu would have probably been awed by a meeting with Fire Lord Kanzagan himself. And he would have likely been impressed by the sheer grandeur of the throne room – a maze of obsidian columns and copper-hued floors, all lit by an enormous quartz chandelier which hung from the center dome. Extra light sifted through windows that composed the walls to either side, their lattices forming decorative shapes of various Fire Nation myths.

When he was younger, Hikoshu imagined, he would have felt incredibly small in the presence of that gold throne, resting below a blue-tiled dragon that jealously guarded it. Now, he just wondered if they ever lit the ten or so torches set in mounts high above the mosaic. He'd never seen them lit. Would it have made the throne room look like it was on fire?

Eventually, as they approached the marble dais, Hikoshu's attention was drawn back to the throne. A golden monstrosity, it was covered in carvings of various dragons, all curling around each other in a tangle that looked chaotic, but also had its own peculiar sort of harmony. They were the Eight Dragons of the Fire Islands, their toothed snouts gaping in silent hisses from the metal. Among them, now, sat the Fire Lord Kanzagan, wrapped in such brilliantly red silks that he gleamed like the sun. Barely middle-aged, he made an imposing figure, his shoulders broad and his arms taut. Golden eyes studied them below a deep brow—a brow that he supposedly shared with his father, though Hikoshu didn't really know. There was no depiction of Fire Lord Kapil in the Hall of Lords. His image had been stricken from the walls many years ago.

Kanzagan wasn't alone on that dais, Hikoshu realized as Yojing unsteadily lowered himself to the cold floor. Great Sage Himizu was standing there, as well, nearly hidden behind the coils of an ornate throne dragon. He regarded them stiffly—Himizu regarded everyone stiffly—wide-set wisps of gray hair trailing from either corner of his mouth to blend into his thick beard. It hung nearly to the sash of his extravagant robes, cinched just below his ribs. In his topknot was the traditional five-pronged pin that represented the Fire Temples.

"Avatar Hikoshu," Kanzagan said, his head bowed politely such that his own Fire Sigil diadem—three points, instead of five, and made of precious stone—flashed brightly. "Sage Yojing, please rise."

Yojing got to his feet just as slowly as he'd gotten to his knees, though his eyes were fixed on the Great Sage beside the throne. Hikoshu also watched him warily; Himizu was one of the many Sages of the Fire Temple who were content to let him know how little he was liked. Even now, his expression was twisted into a barely-concealed frown, as if he'd eaten something unpleasant.

Kanzagan must have caught the sudden tension in the air, for he waved a ring-decked hand toward the Great Sage. "His Eminence expressed his desire to attend this meeting, to which I agreed."

"I'm sure His Eminence is here simply to observe." Yojing didn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. Suddenly, the air grew even tenser, as Himizu's back grew stiffer. It was common knowledge that Yojing and the Great Sage liked each other very little. Usually, though, Yojing maintained at least a façade of respect—if not for the Temples, then for Hikoshu.

He didn't seem to feel so compelled, today.

Himizu's look was scathing. "As you and His Lordship have already made your decision, there's little else I can do."

What decision? Hikoshu glanced between the Fire Lord and his master with trepidation, recalling Yojing's grim look. This must be the reason for the meeting, though he couldn't think of a situation which would evoke such a reaction from Yojing. The same kind of reaction he had now, his heavily wrinkled forehead drooping with some unseen weight.

"Hikoshu." Kanzagan's voice was kind, and his expression was sympathetic. "How go your studies?"

"They're well," he lied, brushing at his bare head in discomfort. To be honest, they hadn't been going well at all; Yojing had reached the limit he could teach Hikoshu in terms of technique and so was now plying him with more reading. Unfortunately, though, Hikoshu had a difficult time concentrating on anything that didn't move. Most hours that he was supposed to be absorbed in study, he spent staring out the garden door, instead.

"I'm glad to hear that," Kanzagan said, as if accepting the lie. Or as if not really hearing it. "You reach the end of your seventeenth year within the next month, correct?"

"I'll be eighteen by the end of the year, yes."

"And so you've known your place as Avatar for nearly two years now."

Known it? It'd been practically _burned_ into him. All of the hard lessons had become ridiculously hard, all of the people who ignored him before now glared at him. And all of the friends he used to have avoided him – not just out of intimidation, but because he never escaped notice. Every mistake he made was caught, every action scrutinized for some sort of guilt. Perhaps for other Avatars, the declaration had given them a new level of freedom. For Hikoshu, all it had done was produce an unheard-of level of isolation.

Kanzagan continued, perhaps not noticing Hikoshu's brief moment of unhappiness. "I don't know how much about the cycle Sage Yojing has taught you, though I expect quite a bit, given what an excellent teacher he is." The Great Sage Himizu was stoic, so Hikoshu wasn't sure if he just imagined a change in his demeanor or if his jaw really did clench. Yojing serving as Hikoshu's teacher had been a point of contention for years; Kanzagan had settled it, however, by overruling the Great Sage's opinion in the matter, resulting in a long-standing disharmony between the Temple and the Throne.

"I'm honored to be his student," Hikoshu said, his voice full of sincerity. He wasn't much of a speaker, especially to important men like the one before him. But the truth always came easily to him, as it did now.

Kanzagan smiled faintly – so faint that it was almost swallowed in the half-formed wrinkles around his mouth. "Then he's told you that the next step in your training lies with the Air Nomads."

"Yes, My Liege." He didn't like where this was going, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

"As you may not know, most Avatars leave to continue their training before the end of their seventeenth year. For various reasons—" Kanzagan shot a not-so-surreptitious frown at Himizu, who continued to look coolly on the proceedings "—you have been delayed until now."

"You're sending me away?" Hikoshu felt numb. He knew this was coming—had been prepared for it nearly since the day he learned who he was. But he'd just been relocated from the Kumana Temple to the Fire Temple, losing his home and friends in the process. Would they really take him away from his country now, too?

"We've made arrangements with the Western Air Temple," Kanzagan said, failing to see how Hikoshu wavered. Yojing noticed, though, clandestinely seizing his elbow to bring him back to the present. "Within a month, you'll be sent by ship to the Cloudless Isles, where Elder Nin-ma, the Abbess, has personally agreed to teach you airbending. Quite an honor for any airbender, monk or Avatar."

"The Western Air Temple is for nuns," Hikoshu protested, though that was hardly the point that bothered him. He just feared that it was the only point he could argue.

"Your instruction there is of a diplomatic nature." Kanzagan's voice was still full, but something else had slipped into his words. Anxiety. Next to him, Himizu's cool indifference became a glower. "As I said, the Western Air Temple has already agreed to the arrangement. I advise you to learn everything the Air Nuns are willing to teach you."

Kanzagan kept talking after that, explaining the intricacies of the proposed move. The rituals, the fanfare. At one point, even the Great Sage stepped in to explain how his removal as a Fire Sage—a suggestion which dismayed Hikoshu—would occur. Such a complicated process, 'change' was. Change from a boy to a firebender. From a firebender to the Avatar. It wasn't just he who changed, or just his title. It was _everything_, and as Hikoshu struggled to listen, he again marveled at how little could ever stay the same.

An hour of discussions passed, though he doubted he'd remember much of it in the weeks to come. But once Kanzagan felt satisfied that Hikoshu understood the essential point—that within a month, he would no longer be a Fire Nation citizen—he ended the audience. Yojing and Hikoshu were dismissed, and they left silently, the older Sage walking at his side.

As soon as they were beyond the sun-adorned door, Yojing spoke for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. "I know this upsets you." He was trying to be consoling, but Hikoshu could sense his own disquiet. "I know you want to stay. But it's not the will of the spirits, Hikoshu. You belong to all nations."

"Yu Ping was helping me steal the keys to the herbalist's pantry." Hikoshu purposefully ignored the comments. Nothing would change the fact he would have to leave, so he saw no reason to dwell on it now. "I promised him he wouldn't get into trouble for it."

"You used Yu Ping again?" Yojing was no longer comforting; just dry.

"He's the only one who'll do it anymore."

Yojing sighed, his eyes falling closed as his head dropped forward. But when he straightened, he wore a grin. "If you keep setting such an example, that child is going to be bad as you."

"I also promised him a fruit pie," Hikoshu said lightly, to which Yojing chuckled. "Ash-banana. No crust. Could you make sure he gets one?"

"I'll see to it that he escapes your pranks unscathed." He then gave Hikoshu a stern look. "But _you'll_ see to the pie yourself. The least he deserves for agreeing to help you is to suffer through your cooking."

And suffer he would. Hikoshu inevitably burned everything he tried to make. "Can I at lea—"

"No, you can't ask the kitchen servants for help."

"But I don't even know how to make a fruit pie!"

"Well, then." Yojing's grin was wry, his old, ochre-colored eyes shining. "Now is a perfect time to learn, Avatar."

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"I don't think he heard a word of it," Himizu muttered as soon as the pair had left, the door slowly pushed shut behind them. Its echo thundered across the throne room, nearly swallowing his voice. "The boy wasn't even listening for the last ten minutes."

"He had a lot on his mind," Kanzagan said beside him, one arm propped against the slinking body of a gold dragon armrest. "He just found out he's leaving home."

"Which is precisely my point, your Lordship." Himizu didn't imagine the Fire Lord would brook another argument so soon after the meeting, but he really didn't have much to lose in trying. After all, everything he stood to lose had just walked out of that throne room. "Hikoshu is not ready to move on in his training. He's easily distracted, he's horribly immature; he just doesn't yet have the responsibility necessary to master a second element."

His chin held against his knuckles, Kanzagan turned his head just enough to pin Himizu with one gold eye. "For some reason, I honestly doubt your assessment is what drives you to keep him here." The accusation rankled, most particularly because it was true.

Himizu feigned offense, anyway, his back stiffening self-righteously. "Forgive me, my Liege, if my explanations seem inadequate. I've just never had to present any before, given that the training of the Avatar is in the _sole_ jurisdiction of the Fire Temples." Despite his deference, Himizu kept his voice sharp. Like a needle, which he would've gladly driven into that placid gold eye.

"The Throne was growing tired of waiting for the Temples to make a decision." Kanzagan's response was both bland and dry. "Or rather, it was tired of the Temples _stalling_ on a decision. I'm not a fool, Your Eminence. I know why you kept Hikoshu here a year longer than necessary."

Though Himizu didn't actually believe he did, his heart still turned icy, constricting his lungs. "Oh?" he asked coolly, his hand brushing unconsciously over the beard that stretched to his waist.

Kanzagan didn't seem to buy his indifference, leaning into the armrest to catch Himizu in his severe gaze. "Forty years, Your Eminence. This is not the same Avatar. You cannot do what Ba Sing Se did to us."

And just like that, Himizu's heart thawed, allowing him to breathe again. Kanzagan was nowhere near the truth of the matter. But so long as he believed such a story, Himizu was content to let him. "You think I wish to control the Avatar."

Kanzagan studied him a moment more, black brows darkly framing his eyes. "Frankly, Your Eminence, at this point, I don't care. Hikoshu is leaving the Fire Nation, with or without the blessing of the Temple. Your plans no longer matter to me." He then sat back in his throne, waving a hand to signal the end of their discussion.

Which was fine for Himizu. He'd made his last attempt to stop the Avatar from leaving, and though it had failed as he imagined it would, it was not the end of his plans. The same plans that Kanzagan had dismissed so lightly, as if Himizu had no other ways of accomplishing what he'd set out to do.

As if Kanzagan really understood what he'd always _intended_ to do.

In fact, this could actually work to his advantage, Himizu mused as he made his way through the various bending tunnels of the Palace. He just needed time to figure out how. But time was not an enemy to Himizu, as it had taken over twenty years just to reach this point.

And as he had learned, through pain and fire, in those ensuing years—time _always_ brought change.

* * *

**A/N: **I apologize for the similarity of the names "Hikoshu" and "Himizu." In the original draft, the two characters were never in the same scene, and I'd planned to change Himizu's name before then. But it's grown on me over the years, and I always figured, hey, as long as I introduce Hikoshu first, and as long as they don't appear in the same scene until long after that, it shouldn't be a problem…

Now, with this edit, I've done the exact opposite of both points. But the name Himizu, as a main character, is as entrenched in long-time readers' minds as it is in mine. So sorry about that. It should not be this confusing again for another forty chapters.

Any feedback, even from repeat reviewers, is greatly appreciated.


	3. The Western Air Temple

**A/N: **See the end notes for why the Western Air Temple here does not look like the Western Air Temple from canon.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - The Western Air Temple**

* * *

—

**_Zhi Huan Year of the Ostrich Horse, Eleventh Month_**

**_6 months later_**

—

Hikoshu knew he stood out, given the fact he was the only man at the Air Temple. And he had to admit that six months had done little to diminish his awe at being surrounded by a hundred women his age or older, half of which ranged from 'pretty' to 'lovely.' After all, before now, his world was as nearly segregated from women as theirs was from men, and suddenly being thrust into the attention of so many young, eligible—and painfully chaste—girls had made him feel incredibly ungainly.

Well, for the first two months or so. After that, he thrived on the attention. Hikoshu quickly discovered that being the only firebender in a Temple full of airbenders meant that his talents—frequently ignored back at the Fire Temples—now could impress and dazzle. In addition, his looks that were so common in the Fire Nation were now considered exotic, copper-colored eyes contrasted with their bright grays and blues, sharp features and defined muscles different from their softer, more subtle forms.

Everywhere Hikoshu went in the Air Temple, he was stared at. And while the sensation had first been uncomfortable, it had slowly become kind of enjoyable. So he played to his differences, taking advantage of every opportunity to show off for the curious nuns who might spy on him during practice.

He was doing that today, performing one of his regular routines in the training court of the Air Temple. The court itself was a wide stretch of stone, balustrades, and benches, bordered by the doors of the Main Sanctuary on one side and jagged cliffs on all others. The cliffs themselves looked out on the ocean, so obscenely far below that the world was a flat expanse of blue.

Not that Hikoshu ever looked that far out. His fear of heights, only augmented by a traumatic bison ride to the summit months before, tormented him with vertigo any time he got too close to the railing. So that now, as he stepped through the forms and kicked through the techniques, he only set the center of the court on fire.

But what a fire it was. Like an inferno, blazing white-gold, it coursed around him, swallowing the stone, searing the sky. On the brink of chaos, it hovered between control and destruction. Yet inside the flames, Hikoshu was calm. His breaths, even and steady, became _chi_ in his lungs. The _chi_, flowing as he directed, became fire at his fingers and toes. In such a way, Hikoshu was merely a conduit for the incredible power that threatened to consume him.

He was its control.

Finishing with a flourish, Hikoshu spun on his heel and tore the flames apart with a swift kick. In response, the swirling flames burst open, and sparks showered to the ground, tiny flashes of brilliant light that faded like dying stars. He knew what kind of figure he must've presented, standing in that field of embers, shirtless, his black hair unbound. Sweating, exhausted, but his shoulders thrown back as if he could take on the world.

So he was a little disappointed when it didn't garner the attention he was currently craving.

The three women who watched him from their stone daises were nonplused, their legs folded serenely under their copious yellow robes. The one in the center was the first to speak.

"That was…nice, Master Hikoshu, but it's well past the hour to start your lessons."

Hikoshu stared at Nin-ma, then slumped his shoulders with a heavy breath. Perhaps he shouldn't have worn himself out before practice, but he'd wanted to show his airbending master that he _could_ bend well. It was simply airbending that was proving to be so difficult. Hikoshu had hoped to impress them with the only element he'd mastered so far, yet they watched him with so little enthusiasm that he was sure he'd failed to do even that.

"It was a routine my master had me create," Hikoshu said weakly, thinking that maybe they'd be impressed with his ingenuity. They weren't. "Master Yojing," he clarified as he took a seat on the stone. "Back at the Fire Nation." The mention of his former master brought with it a pang of sadness. Six months since he'd seen Yojing – the longest he'd ever gone without seeing him, since Hikoshu's arrival at the Kumana Temple nine years before. Though the girls at the Air Temple were pretty, they weren't close to him as Yojing had been, and the loneliness made him miss his master more. Hikoshu often wondered what he was doing now, whether he'd retired to his home on Guang Island or stayed with the Temple.

When he asked, Yojing had brushed it off with his look-it-up-or-live-in-ignorance grin. "Don't concern yourself with this temple or those in it," he'd said. "You belong to the Air Nomads now."

The Air Nomads, like the ones sitting before him. Who stared at him so impassively that it drove him mad wondering what reproving thoughts they were having.

The nuns were silent for a moment more before the woman on the far left finally spoke. Byan, terse and blunt. Less impressed with his progress than Nin-ma, if that was possible. "Today, you have only one task. To keep this leaf from touching the ground." She had procured the said-leaf, which she held up in emphasis before him.

Hikoshu swallowed back a groan. "Elder Byan, I don't mean to be insolent, but I've done this for weeks, and it's not getting any easier. Can't I move on to something else, like blowing down trees?" Secretly, he suspected he'd be far more capable of knocking over trees than balancing leaves.

"The way of the airbender is not to destroy," Nin-ma said with that unnerving calm she always assumed during lessons. "Our way is to protect and guide. As is your role as the Avatar. Now, assume your role and protect this leaf from falling."

Hikoshu sighed before folding his legs under him, adjusting the fabric of his loose, yellow pants. Not only did keeping a leaf off the ground seem harder than knocking over stuff, but it also seemed a lot less productive. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a single situation where his ability to hold leaves up might determine the fate of a nation.

Then he realized, during his distraction, the leaf had fluttered from Byan's hand and was quickly approaching the ground.

Half on instinct, Hikoshu swung his hand up, cupping his palm as if to catch it. Immediately, _chi _built in his hand and surged forward, forming a breeze that moved towards the swaying leaf.

And the nun on the right fell backwards with a soft "oof" as the so-called breeze smashed into her.

The other two nuns did not look amused, so Hikoshu tried hard not to, either. "I'm sorry, Elder Khu. I lost focus."

The unsettled nun picked herself up with a frown, the first emotion she'd expressed all day. Carefully, she straightened her dull yellow robes, rearranging them as she seated herself once more on her meditation stand.

Nin-ma turned her attention back to him, her expression as stern as Master Yojing's ever was. "You still bend like a firebender, using your wrath as a weapon. And even when you manipulate air, you still push with fire. This is not our way. This is not _your_ way."

Hikoshu felt both chastised and indignant. The fact was, he _was _a firebender. He'd been born that way, raised that way, and had only known that way for all but the last half-year. So declaring that it _wasn't_ his way seemed rather ridiculous. They couldn't force years of training out of him just by saying it was so.

"Again." Her voice was sharp, at odds with her calm expression. "Try again, Master Hikoshu. And keep in mind what defines the skill of airbending. Remember the lightness of your breath, the freedom of your soul at its most triumphant. To bend air is to defend, to protect, to honor all life in its simplest forms."

Unfortunately, Hikoshu couldn't focus on both the leaf and remembering the lightness of his breath at the same time. Airbending was insanely difficult. It went against everything he'd ever learned in firebending, calling upon loss of control where such a loss would mean certain death to a Fire Sage. It required that the bender be willing to submit himself to the wind, make himself nothing but dust upon it. It required feeling the joy of surrender.

Well, he couldn't really do that. Surrendering himself called for a leap of faith he wasn't willing to take. But he did imagine how pleasant it would be to be _free_ like the wind, at least. And that was the loophole through which he could airbend. The leaf in front of him danced as gracefully on the air as if a puppeteer tugged its strings, bringing approving looks from the nuns as it glided closer to him.

Just at the moment of his greatest triumph of leaf-bending, he lost it. The leaf fluttered to the earth, dead, as the tremulous voice of a novice cut through his concentration. "Mistress Nin-ma, there's a visitor to see you!" Possibly too nervous to go out any further, she stood at the temple door that led out into the courtyard.

The visitor had apparently followed her, as he pushed past her almost dismissively, his bronze scale armor interrupting the peace of the yard with its loud clanking. "General Gi-Luon of the Western Army and Saru Mountain Divisions of His Majesty's Royal Forces, advisor to His Majesty King Du Gong of Omashu wishes to speak with the Temple Abbess directly!"

By the time the Earth Kingdom youth had finished the entire title, they were all staring at him. He stood in silence, his back stiff, though his bright green eyes darted among them with obvious concern. Apparently, he'd been sent to make the announcement, but for all of his bluster, he had no idea what he was doing. Just some lower-ranking soldier, young enough that Hikoshu imagined he must be related to someone important.

"Please inform the General," Nin-ma began with much authority and little patience, her body twisted about on the dais, "that I was well aware of his approach and am equally aware of his arrival, as we _have _been expecting him for some time. We'll hold audience with him in our study, to which he may bring his men and council, but no more than three. We are defenseless women, after all." Hikoshu could hear the sarcasm, even if the Earth Kingdom boy couldn't. "Novice Miyo will take you there." The man gave a curt bow and strode back into the sanctuary, his gait full of haughty impudence now that his duty was over. Miyo, the shaken novice, bowed even faster and followed.

Nin-ma watched him disappear, then turned to face Hikoshu, looking worn. She was young for an Elder, almost three times his age, but the wrinkles that furrowed her tattooed forehead made her seem much older.

Before she could say anything, Byan interrupted. "Mistress Nin-ma, there is no sense that we all be present. Khu and I can continue Hikoshu's lesson while you are gone." She was being helpful, which Hikoshu noted respectfully. But at the same time, he really wished she hadn't offered.

Much to his relief, Nin-ma waved the suggestion off, swiftly getting to her feet in a graceful leap that only an airbender could manage. She landed gently on her toes, her robes and hair billowing around her like a cloud, but her face was still weary.

"Thank you, Khu, but I think the lessons are over for today. Master Hikoshu has yet to complete some of the more basic steps. An afternoon will not cost him dearly in his path toward mastery." He relaxed, realizing belatedly that every muscle in him was tensed in preparation for the next struggle with a leaf.

The two nuns followed Nin-ma's lead and floated to their feet. They started to turn for the doorway, but stopped at the head Elder's silent command. "However, I do believe Master Hikoshu would be well served to attend this meeting. Perhaps he'll learn something of longer-term importance."

Hikoshu stared at her for a moment, then glanced down at his attire. Clothed only in the yellow pants of novice monks, he wasn't appropriately dressed for any kind of political meeting, official or otherwise. And thus had an appropriate excuse. "Elder Nin-ma, if I may, I'm not in proper form to…"

"Nonsense. You have plenty of time to dress." From the sash under her shawl, Nin-ma produced a fan which she snapped at him, lifting him—rather inelegantly—to his feet. With a clumsy grunt, he caught himself.

"Be at the study in a quarter-hour," Nin-ma said in a commanding tone, the three Elders already walking away. Sighing, Hikoshu tugged his hair back and headed for the section of the Temple that held his own chamber. There was no chance he'd make the meeting in time. Having to walk everywhere, it took him four times as long as everyone else to get to his destination.

Well, he thought glumly, at least if he was late, the meeting might be short.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu hadn't worn the crimson robes of a Fire Sage in a while, such that they now felt strange and itchy against his skin. Part of him was more at ease than he'd been in months, but another part of him felt uncomfortable at the constrictive fabric. Perhaps he had just gained some weight? Unlikely, given how hard they'd made him work. A glance in the worn bronze mirror before he left his meager room told him that he definitely needed to shave. Another month or two and he'd have as full a beard as his fisherman father once had. But where his father was gray in his memory, his beard would be as black as kohl. And sleek. Quite manly.

Stray thoughts like this were what caused him to take the steps two at a time, lunging forward to avoid being late. He _knew_ Nin-ma expected him to airbend. He knew Nin-ma knew he would be desperate enough to airbend. But if desperation were the only thing needed to make a person learn, he would've been a master years ago. Now, he just looked silly, his robes flying up around him, one hand clutching his narrow, conical Fire Sage hat. Completely undignified for a firebender, let alone the Avatar. Particularly the Avatar. He was just fortunate that no nuns would dare take the stairs when they had more convenient means of traveling.

The living quarters of the nuns were separated from the rest of the Temple by spiritual rather than physical borders. The edifices still had the swooping vertical lines and graceful curves of the temple architecture and were connected to the sanctuaries by bridges as fine as glass, smoothed by centuries of strong winds. But the height of the spires fell much shorter than those of the Temple Proper, and the general sanctity of the Temple seemed to diminish slightly. It was almost an aura more than a marked difference.

Hikoshu knew the direction to the Elders' study better than the direction to his own room. Though Nin-ma preferred to perform daily tasks near the meditation halls, there was just something about berating the Avatar that she was loath to do in front of novice airbenders. So he would often have to run these distances, down the stone stairwells, through the main sanctuary with its boundless ceilings, past the polished white bridge, and along storied verandas that overlooked some of the many gardens growing on the rocky cliff.

To stop there, in front of the massive wooden door that could only be opened by a master airbender. Which meant someone had to open it for him on the inside. Doubled over, Hikoshu had to wait a moment to regain his breath, his red cap clutched in his hands. Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, he replaced the crumpled hat on his head and knocked soundly.

It swung open immediately, pulled back by two young airbenders in short, yellow novice habits. They bent their heads respectfully to him as he entered and then hurried out, pulling the door shut behind him. He hesitated, hearing the complicated lock click into place, followed by the sound of voices floating from the other room. Again, Hikoshu tried to bring his breath under control, then started across the hall.

The study was just outside of the nuns' living quarters, which were simply cells; rooms with beds and not much else. This, however, was much larger. As the place where the Elders conducted most foreign business, it was much more ostentatious than an Air Nomad would normally prefer. Thus the locked doors first opened onto a large stone hall, wide enough for thirty people comfortably, decorated sparsely with painted clouds. At each of the four corners of the room, there was a terra cotta statue representing one of the elements.

They had caught his eye the few first times he had visited the study, though by now he had their features memorized. In the scant light of the room, provided by high windows in the southern wall, the statues seemed to move as if they were alive. A bearded earthbender, beating a drum tucked between his folded legs. An airbender, her clothes billowing as she played a flute caressed in her tattooed hands. A waterbender, her mouth open in song and the snow shifting under her.

But it was the Firebender who always caught his attention. He was in the southeast corner of the room, a young man with stern features who sat languidly on a stone cushion, though he looked ready to move at any moment. Lying cradled in his lap was a stringed pear-shaped instrument Hikoshu recognized as a pipa. Silently, the man's nimble fingers plucked at stone strings and his empty eyes appeared to soften at the melody. Yet at odds with the calm scene, terra cotta flames licked at his fingers and the stem of the pipa as he played, and behind him a fire raged. The young man did not seem to notice, or care. He stared with singular focus at his instrument, determined to play despite the fire eating away at him.

Hikoshu's eyes lingered on it, though he had seen the statues dozens of times. He knew he was only delaying the inevitable, which he was happy to do for the moment. He could hear angry voices from the other room, or at least one angry voice. And he was in no hurry to interrupt that. Instead, he crept up to the door of the next room, composed of a bead curtain, and leaned against the wall.

"All of it is by right due to Omashu, and it is only through the generosity of our great king that I've been authorized to offer you half." The strange man's voice was irritated and incredulous; he was discovering just how stubborn Nin-ma could be.

"We have not received news from the city of Bajke that it is now under Omashu control." Nin-ma's soft yet firm tones were not hard to identify. "And we cannot in good faith have negotiations on the matter without a representative present."

Hikoshu decided it was best to interrupt then. If the argument grew more heated, he might remain hidden outside the door until someone stumbled on him by accident. And that would be a lot more embarrassing than simply entering late.

He pushed the curtain back with humility and bowed as soon as he entered. Silence fell on the room, and as Hikoshu straightened, he noted that all six people stared at him from the simple, low-set table placed in the study for the purposes of meetings.

There were only three Elders present – Nin-ma, Byan, and Khu. Though there were five Elders total, these three handled most of the temple affairs. They sat on bamboo mats with straight backs and yellow robes that glowed under the skylight. Across from them were the three Earth Kingdom officials, their faces mirroring the same confusion that he felt.

The one closest to him was dressed in military uniform, his bronze armor clinking as he twisted a top-knotted head to stare at Hikoshu. Next to him, in the center, sat what had to be the General Gi-Luon, his bearded chin hard and his brown hair held back in a similar topknot. He also wore armor, though the scales seemed more ceremonial than functional. He looked extremely out of place in this tranquil room, especially with his broad shoulders and domineering air.

The one furthest from him, however, was a girl. A child, actually, and he wracked his memory for the reason why she looked so familiar. No more than fourteen, she wore heavy silks that had to be uncomfortable as his were in the balmy afternoon, and her face was half-hidden by a length of loose brown hair.

He couldn't place her at all.

Hikoshu didn't realize he was staring until Nin-ma cleared her throat. And then he noticed his hat was lying on the ground. Scooping it up, he made his way into the room and took the only seat left at the head of the table between the two groups. He plopped the cap on his head with little dignity and silently cursed his poor entrance. There were times, in fact, when he didn't like standing out so much.

"Master Avatar, good of you to join us." Nin-ma never sounded sarcastic, even when he knew that's exactly what she was being. She gestured with a tattooed hand toward their guests. "I'm not sure you've had the pleasure of meeting our visitors. This is General Gi-Luon of Omashu." The little officer seemed about ready to finish the title, but she cut him off hastily. "And his companion is Lieutenant Commander Hojin. The young woman is the General's daughter, Yan-lin."

The girl finally glanced up at him at the introduction, and he was struck by yet another sense of familiarity. Those brown eyes meant something, though he had no idea what. They were large, pretty, and filled with uncertainty. But really not much else. She was just a girl, no more interesting than the multitude of other young girls he saw at the Temple.

Hikoshu almost missed the general's personal introduction. "Master Avatar, it is an honor and privilege to meet you." Gi-Luon bowed his head deeply, bringing his hands up in deference. Even still, Hikoshu didn't sense real submission in his gesture. The man seemed too proud to bow to anyone. "The Earth Kingdoms are honored to serve the Avatar in his quest for peace and balance."

Hikoshu awkwardly bowed his head in response, not really sure what to say to that. No one had bothered to teach him how to be a politician. "I thank you, General, and am honored to serve as your…Avatar…" he trailed off feebly, feeling his face flush as an uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Yan-lin shot him a quizzical look before casting her eyes down again, and his face grew warmer.

"Yes," Gi-Luon said after a moment, and suddenly, it was back to business. "Well, hopefully the Avatar might have some insight on our impasse."

"There is no impasse," Nin-ma said coolly, and Hikoshu was grateful that the attention had finally shifted off of him. The Elder and General were staring each other down again, engaging in some verbal battle that he didn't understand the rules to. Particularly since he didn't understand the topic of conversation. "We are not at liberty to discuss this matter with any entities outside of Bajke."

"Bajke is not a recognized governmental body by either Omashu or Ba Sing Se…"

So that's what it was. Trade discussions. Hikoshu tried to keep his shoulders from dropping. They were probably talking about the Moqui Strait – the stretch of water between the Western Air Temple and the mainland of the Earth Kingdom continent. It was, by tradition, controlled by the Western Air Temple. But the nuns only took nominal goods for its use, and the Northwestern Peninsula, represented by the city of Bajke, benefited from the rest. Apparently, Omashu now wanted in on that.

Hikoshu struggled to pay attention, but he couldn't really follow talks that he knew nothing about. And it wasn't like his opinion was going to make these two forget their differences and agree, anyway. So, despite his best attempts, Hikoshu's mind wandered.

The girl sitting next to him—Yan-lin—looked just as bored as he. After meeting his gaze that once, she'd kept her eyes downcast from then on, and he had to wonder what her point was. Why bring a child to trade talks? Wouldn't it have been better to bring someone from, say, Bajke?

She must've felt his stare, because after several long moments, she glanced up at him. The look was brief, but it made him draw back. Now he recognized her. That weird mixture of confidence and insecurity, like she knew what she was doing but wasn't sure if anyone else believed it. She was that girl from the Fire Palace, right before he left for the Air Temple.

"The Air Nomads have no land, Elder Nin-ma. Nor do you make any claim to land outside of your temples."

Hikoshu slowly brought himself back to the conversation, realizing that its timbre had changed. It had gone from irritated to angry, and both Nin-ma and General Gi-Luon were glaring. Whatever the topic was, it was certainly a sore one.

"So I do not see how," the General continued carefully, "anyone would upset any balance by claiming land that you yourselves do not even prize."

"We do not own land, that's true." Nin-ma seemed hesitant to agree with him, her words just as patiently weighed as his. "But we believe _no one_ owns land. You have as much right to force the Nomads to abandon their homes as the mountain has to stop the wind."

They were talking about the Air Nomad relocation.

The relocation that had worried the Fire Nation to some extent, as well as the Water Tribes. The unspoken threat of Omashu to remove the Plains Nomads—the Air Nomads who lived outside the Temples—from their homes on the main continent so that they could take their land. There was no official stance, nor any official movement on Omashu's part. But the possibility had hung between the two nations for years, dark and ominous.

Gi-Luon remained silent for a moment, then gave a soft humph under his breath, smiling in false civility. "Omashu is sympathetic to the needs of the Air Nomads, which is why we have not made any decision on the issue."

"Because, General, there is no decision to make. The Temple Nomads will not support such a move."

The frown that spread briefly across Gi-Luon's face indicated that he didn't really care what the Nomads wouldn't support. "Much like with Bajke, I see that Omashu and the Air Nomads would be at an impasse on the relocation. Perhaps it should eventually be something for the Avatar to address, instead."

And suddenly, he was back in the conversation, all eyes turned toward him. Hikoshu felt awkward and gangly under their gazes, wondering why it now mattered what he thought. Should he say something? They looked at him as if anticipating him to make a statement on the issue.

"Um…why do you need their land?" His voice sounded weak even to himself. And he wasn't surprised at all by the incredulous look on each person's face. The lieutenant-commander Hojin coughed uncomfortably and Hikoshu thought he saw Yan-lin roll her eyes. The nuns all seemed dubious, probably of his mental faculties.

Apparently he'd asked a stupid question.

Gi-Luon stared at him for a moment, then smiled uncertainly. "Yes. Well, as of right now, Omashu has no official desire for Air Nomad land, and it will remain that way for the foreseeable future." All of a sudden, he stood, his daughter and Hojin following his lead. "Perhaps, after you've finished your education with the Nomads, you might study in Omashu. And we can show you why this need for 'land' is even a question."

Then he turned once more to Nin-ma, his broad-shouldered figure overwhelming the room. "I'll inform my king of your refusal over the Strait alliance, as well as your demand to include Bajke in the discussions."

"Please let us know if King Du Gong has any other irreverent requests of the Air Nomads." As usual, there was no sarcasm in Nin-ma's tone, and she bowed her head with absolute politeness. But Gi-Luon's expression darkened and the bow he gave was shallow at best. Apparently, he was a little more adept at reading people than his messenger had been.

"Elders. Master Avatar." And then he swept dramatically out of the room, the girl throwing Hikoshu one last glance as she disappeared behind the bead curtain with her father.

After they left, there was only silence. Hikoshu let out his breath slowly, realizing now he'd been holding it. It took a moment to notice that he was being watched. By Nin-ma, who studied him intently, while Byan and Khu gave him unpleasant looks.

Hunching his shoulders, he asked defensively, "What? What'd I do?"

The three let out a simultaneous sigh and stood up together, removing their fans from their belts. But Nin-ma was the one to speak. "You have much to learn, Avatar."

He slumped at the admonishment. No. He hadn't impressed anyone today.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu stood by the railing, looking out over the misty cliffs and to an ocean that stretched along the horizon. There wouldn't have been much to see had the moon already set, its bright reflection warped and shimmering with the water. Fortunately, there still wasn't much to see; Hikoshu's morbid fear of heights usually kept him from this particular area during the day. But at night, when the nuns weren't using it for glider practice, and when he couldn't see the craggy abyss just beyond the stone ledge, he could at least enjoy the quiet breezes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice rudely broke his reverie. Startled, he turned toward its source and flicked his fingers. A flame appeared above them, catching the Earth Kingdom girl, Yan-lin, in its light. Even more surprised, he dropped the fire, which threw them both back into darkness.

"Well, it _was_ beautiful," she said sarcastically, her voice deep and sharp, as she leaned against the balcony.

"I thought you'd already left." Though he'd never spoken to her before, it just didn't seem right to go through all the formalities of introduction again.

Hikoshu could sense more than see her quizzical look, the moon casting dark shadows over her round face. "We just arrived today." She seemed to think that should explain everything.

"But…after that discussion…" Gi-Luon's parting words had had a certain amount of finality, as if he hadn't expected to speak to Nin-ma again. Hikoshu couldn't imagine the General lingering at the Temple after such an unhappy good-bye.

Yan-lin was still staring at him. Finally, she shook her head, looking back over the water. Tiny bells in her elaborate head-dress jingled daintily, and Hikoshu realized that she wore the same full green robes from earlier, now washed black by the moonlight. It made him feel terribly underdressed, as he'd changed from the ceremonial robes into his usual Nomadic attire, which had always been just a little too short.

"You aren't much for politics, are you?" she said, and Hikoshu abruptly forgot all concerns about his dress. His temper flared at the thought of a child thinking so little of him. Honestly, by the time he was _her_ age, he was razing buildings with one well-placed kick and boiling lakes with just a flick of his hand.

Alright, perhaps not that much. But he was certainly more experienced than this little girl. And he was the Avatar. That _had_ to be worth some respect from a fourteen-year-old.

"You aren't much for tact, are you?" Hikoshu snapped back, leaning against the rail, as well. "I suppose they teach you to rule countries _while_ teaching you to earthbend. Forgive me if I'm not so versatile."

She glanced at him, then adjusted her position so that she could speak comfortably. "I didn't think the Avatar would be so grouchy." The breeze caught her hair, throwing it into her face. "Or so…normal."

"What can I say? I love surprising people."

Yan-lin might have smiled; she had her back to the moon, making her face too dark to read. Her hair piece slipped, forcing her to hold it in place, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the wind rattling the scraggly trees that grew on the cliff-side.

"We leave in the morning," she said suddenly, and it took him a moment to realize she was explaining why she was still there. "Guests always remain a night before leaving. Never stay so short as to insult your host, or so long as to annoy him. My father taught me that." Hikoshu made a sound of acknowledgement, folding his arms on the balustrade. "How old are you?"

"Old enough to tell you to go to bed." Well, perhaps not that old. "Isn't your father wondering where you're at?"

Yan-lin gave a laugh, her head tilting to study the tower that housed the guest quarters, invisible save for a few lights in the lower windows. "He knows I'm in the Temple and that's all he cares to know. It wouldn't matter if I were in my room or falling off this cliff."

"Well. That's morbid." Hikoshu didn't know what it was like to have a father so uninterested in his existence—or a father at all, really—but he couldn't imagine it was very pleasant. Which left him at a loss on how to respond to such a candid admission. Pat her shoulder and tell her it was alright? Admit it probably wasn't and wish her the best of luck? Mention that she'd probably be dead before she hit the rocks, anyway?

Yan-lin didn't seem interested in being comforted, shrugging as if she didn't expect anything more or less. "He brought me along for the sake of custom. My father is uncomfortable appearing in the audience of women without a woman family member present. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have seen him for several more months." She lowered her voice to a furtive murmur. "He's not very good at talking to women."

Well, that was something they both had in common. Hikoshu shifted awkwardly, wondering if this was what fourteen-year-old girls liked to talk about. Private family matters just weren't things that seemed proper to share with complete strangers. But she didn't say anything else on the subject, choosing to stare at him quietly in the dark.

Hikoshu felt uneasy under her eyes, suddenly reminded of the way the nuns stared at him when he first arrived. Reminded of the way he originally felt when they stared at him. Not flattered, not pleased. Just uncomfortable, like their eyes were asking him a question about what his purpose was – what was so special about him that he'd been made the future savior of the world. Like them, Hikoshu had no answer to that. So he'd become pretty good at ignoring the question. That's what he tried to do now with the girl who gazed at him.

But this girl wasn't content to be ignored. "Do you have any friends, Master Avatar?"

He glanced at her in surprise, then frowned unhappily. "Don't call me that."

"Well, what else do I call you?" She turned back toward the moon in order to keep her hair out of her face, her expression devoid of ridicule. "Master Grouch?"

He smiled and pulled out the tie that held his topknot, offering it to her. "Just call me Hikoshu, alright?"

She looked over at him, and he could see her grin as she spied the hair band. Reaching out, she moved to take it but clasped his open palm instead. The sudden contact surprised him, and he had to resist pulling his hand away.

"Hikoshu, then." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then took the tie and deftly manipulated her hair into a bun despite the wind. The nuisance now tamed, she turned to face him, beaming in delight at her new hairstyle. Or maybe beaming at him. "You can call me Yan. Everyone does."

"Alright. Yan." Hikoshu didn't imagine he would use that name many more times. She'd probably be gone in the morning, never to be heard from again.

"So, Hikoshu, you didn't answer my question," she said, and it took him a moment to recall exactly what her question was. "Do you have any friends?"

"No…not anymore," he said softly, his eyes shifting toward the south. Master Yojing was the closest thing he'd had to a father _and _a friend. And now, he didn't even have that anymore. Yojing had always told him that being the Avatar was a lonely business.

"I don't have any friends, either," Yan said just as quietly, bringing his attention back to her. She was sad—quite possibly sadder than he, and he realized that he at least had someone. Yan here may have never had anyone, at all. "Father works in various aspects of the military, never staying in one place for very long. And neither do I."

"Well, I suppose if we're both alone, it wouldn't hurt to be alone together." At his words, she glanced up at him, then smiled coyly. And Hikoshu became uncomfortable again. She _was_ a teenage girl, after all. "As friends. Together as friends. Long-distance friends." His cheeks grew warm. Lucky that everything appeared washed-out in the moonlight.

"You're kind, Hikoshu," she said, pushing away from the railing. He brushed his hair out of his face, feeling the sudden urge to smile at the compliment. Somehow, that actually made him feel good. Perhaps no one really complimented him anymore, or perhaps it was her sincerity. "Awkward and a little hard to understand, but at least you're kind."

And there went the happy feeling. His grin melted into a glare, as he held his hair back so she could get the full effect of his expression. But it only made her laugh. She pulled out her bun and grabbed his hand to press the tie between his fingers. "I think you're quite elegant." She then turned away, the wind whipping at her robes as she headed for the guest quarters. "Good-bye, Hikoshu!"

He didn't bother to say good-bye, knowing she wouldn't hear him anyway. What a singular young girl. With a frown, Hikoshu faced the ocean again, twisting the hair tie in his fingers. Well, it was nice to have a friend. For a little while, anyway.

**

* * *

A/N: **When the episode "The Western Air Temple" came out, I'd already written this scene nearly two years before. My plan was to rework the scene once we saw the WAT, but frankly, that'd never work. Instead, this kind of works into the natural order of things -- y'know, 900 years in the past, things are going to look a little (or a lot) different. There'll eventually be something catastrophic happen to the WAT to explain why it looks so different in the series.

Along the same vein, the Air Nomads living outside of the Air Temples was an intentional variation to create the impression of evolution in time.


	4. The Master

**Chapter 3 - The Master**

* * *

—

**_Yi Wen Year of the Rooster-Crow, Seventh Month_**

**_2 years later_**

—

Yojing groaned tiredly as he entered his chambers. It was a groan he'd never let anyone outside that room hear; too many people who'd be eager to know he was starting to feel his age. But there was a limp in his step that wasn't there a year ago, and a strange sagging in his joints, which seemed to creak whenever he chose to meditate. Everything about him screamed _old_, and even his spirit felt that way. Too many years, too many games. He was ready for it to be done.

The only thing of value he had accomplished in the time since they brought him back into service was Hikoshu. Though Yojing'd been reluctant to take charge of the new Avatar, Kanzagan had emphasized that he was the only one.

"I can't trust anyone but you," the young Fire Lord had said, and Yojing had agreed. What else could he do? It was his duty to the Fire Nation, to the world. Decades of peace in exchange for a few years of his own. It was the wise, selfless decision.

But now he was done. Hikoshu, two years gone, had moved on to new teachers, and though Yojing followed his training carefully, he was content to let the boy live his own life. Yojing was ready to rest.

He seated himself on the bamboo mat before the fire-case, folding his legs and robes carefully underneath him. Meditation came easily to him, his thoughts lost in the haze of the wood-smoke, and he drifted lazily in a state of clarity that he so rarely achieved during the day.

Not tonight, though. Before he had drifted into emptiness, his concentration was broken by a knock at the door, the sound echoing on the hard stone walls.

Suffering another groan, he pushed himself to his feet and moved for the wood door once more. It was practically the only thing in the room that was wood. In a place full of firebenders, flammable objects were a constant concern, and so almost everything was made of treated stone. For Yojing, it was cold and impersonal, even the softest sounds magnified against the hard walls. He would have gladly traded it for the garden home he'd left on one of the small Fire Islands. Here, within the confines of the Temple, there were few trees. Few animals, little life. It was nothing but stone and dark crevices.

When he opened the door, Yojing was greeted by Tzan. The young man – or at least young to him – looked up with dull orange eyes, tiny black streaks that must've passed for a beard set wide around his too-wide mouth. Upon seeing Yojing, he politely removed his red cap, folding it between his hands as he gave a respectful bow.

"What is it, Tzan?" Yojing didn't mince words, nor did he wait in the doorway for the other Sage. He moved back into the chamber, allowing him to follow if he wanted.

"The Great Sage asked me to come speak to you," he said as he stepped in, and Yojing could almost sense Tzan looking around curiously. His room was a bit different from the other Sages'. The walls were covered with brocades and folding screens – anything to hide the gray stone. And it was quite possible that if the room caught on fire, so would he. There was certainly enough silk and rice paper to let everything burn.

"About?" He gestured for Tzan to take a seat on one of the bamboo mats he kept around for the explicit purpose of guests that he never had. Tzan turned it down with a shake of his head, and Yojing shrugged, moving back to his tea stand.

"He says you are leaving the Temple." Tzan stepped toward one of the folding screens, his fingers tracing the fine calligraphy written on it. "He says…you're headed back to Guang Island."

Yojing stepped up behind him, offering the small porcelain cup across his shoulder as he examined the same characters. "An Earth Kingdom haiku. It's charming, but I like the screen for the art, not the words." Tzan took the proffered cup with a muttered 'thank you.' "So how does this concern the Great Sage?"

"You know he values you as an esteemed teacher," Tzan explained as he turned away from the screen, sipping at the drink. "Your contributions to this Temple are such that he wishes that you would remain in service to the Sages."

"I'm old, Tzan. And useless. What does he _really_ want?" Yojing didn't believe for a moment that Great Sage Himizu wished to keep him on. Himizu had wanted him gone for years. It had everything to do with the politics he'd fought for so long to avoid, and which somehow he'd found himself immersed in.

"He wants you to bring back Hikoshu, of course." There. The heart of the matter, and Yojing was grateful Tzan had decided to avoid the typical games of rhetoric. He set his cup down and turned to Tzan with his hands out helplessly, his wide crimson sleeves spreading with his arms.

"How would he expect me to do such a thing?"

"It's for Hikoshu's own good. You know that." Tzan fiddled with his cup, and Yojing worried for a moment he would drop it. It was his favorite cup, very delicate, covered in plum blossoms. "You're as aware of the factions just as well as I am."

"Ah. The factions." An oblique, yet common, reference to the conspiratorial division in the government. Sages whispered about it, some vocally advocated it, but none would claim to be involved in it. Yojing, unfortunately, knew how many of those Sages really were.

He just didn't know which faction any of them belonged to. They were either on the side of the neutralists—those who had tried to keep the Avatar as neutral as possible, or they were on the side of the isolationists—those who had been trying to control the Avatar since he was a little boy. Who still wanted to control the Avatar.

Yojing had imagined that Tzan belonged to that group. He wasn't so certain about Himizu.

"The factions are none of my concern," Yojing finally said, reaching to take the cup from the other Sage. Tzan glanced at his offered hand and surrendered it with a frown. "I'm just a teacher. I'm not a politician."

"You're the _Avatar's_ teacher. That makes you just as much a politician as any of the government officials," Tzan protested, and Yojing held back a sigh. He didn't resent being Hikoshu's master, but he certainly resented the constant bickering.

"You still haven't told me how you would expect me to bring him back."

"Ask him to return one last time to celebrate your retirement. His Eminence can handle the rest."

"Why did he send you for this, Tzan?" Yojing asked with a shake of his head, growing impatient. He wasn't going to ask Hikoshu back. _Everyone_ knew that. They knew it the day he sent Hikoshu off. "You aren't his usual lackey, no offense intended."

For some reason, that put the Tzan on edge, and he kept his eyes on his hands as he rubbed them together. "The Great Sage thought he could entrust this favor to me. I asked him for the chance to speak to you, for I truly believe in what he's trying to do."

"Ah. You're doing it for a cause. Far more dangerous than a man doing it for personal gain." He set the plum blossom cup down, reaching for the teapot once more. This time, though, he would keep his favorite cup. "But you aren't part of the faction to control the Avatar, are you?"

Tzan said nothing, which didn't necessarily confirm his accusation. But he didn't deny it, either. Yojing continued speaking as he poured. "I know of one other faction, in addition to those who want neutrality and those who want to 'guide' the Avatar's personal interests." He turned to pin him with a frown. Tzan stared at him from the screen, his expression eerily blank.

"This faction, it doesn't want the Avatar home, does it, Tzan?" He sipped at his drink as he approached the Fire Sage, arching his eyebrows over the rim. "It doesn't want the Avatar at all. Even on a leash, a person with that much power is still a threat. And destroying the cycle altogether would throw the world into chaos."

He stepped next to the Sage, his eyes scanning the painting on the screen. An Earth Kingdom woman sat underneath a cherry tree, her hands outstretched to catch the falling blossoms. Her eyes rested on the haiku high above the branches.

_In the moments left  
All we remember are the  
Petals we could catch _

Such cheap words. But such a beautiful image. There were many cherry trees on Guang Island. And they would be blooming soon.

"So what do you want from me, Tzan?" Yojing asked, sipping his tea as he studied the scene. "You know where I stand. And I know where you stand, as well as Himizu. Where does it go from here?"

As Tzan slit Yojing's throat, the cup fell from his hand, its beautiful plum blossoms shattering against the cold stone floors. And the blood sprayed his beautiful folding screen, turning those light pink flowers red.

His work in this world was done. And all he had left were memories of cherry trees.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"I found him like this," Kazuo said roughly. "He'd been propped up, to look like he was meditating. But whoever did it didn't even bother to clean up the blood." His voice cracked, and Fire Lord Kanzagan realized the acolyte had probably been crying.

But he'd been discreet, which was far more important.

"Has anyone else been through here?" Kanzagan asked, leaning over the supine form of his former friend. His face was white, nearly as white as his hair, and the deep gash along his throat had stained his beard red.

"No, my Liege. I've kept the door shut until you came."

He rubbed his fingers along the cut, sticky blood coating his nails. The death wasn't recent, but it was probably from Kanzagan's delay in arriving, as Kazuo had been able to lay Yojing on the floor. "How long ago did you find him?"

"Four hours ago? Maybe more."

Four hours in this room, alone with Yojing. Any other man would be terrified of the ghost of a murdered Sage, but Kazuo was so devoted that he had stayed by his master's side. It was quite honorable, and Kazuo immediately earned Kanzagan's respect.

"Do you have any suspicions who might have done this?"

"No, my Liege." He sounded miserable. Straightening, Kanzagan wiped his hands on the edge of his heavy Sage's robe – a disguise to hide his presence there. No one could know about this until he determined exactly what had happened.

"It was premeditated," Kanzagan murmured as he stepped around the room, trying to avoid the large pool of congealed blood. "And unexpected. Yojing invited his murderer in. Gave him a drink." He signaled to the second cup on the tea stand. "He didn't see the attack coming, or this whole room would be in ashes."

"My Liege, what are we going to do?" Kazuo's voice was thick, and he looked up at the acolyte. The man was young—nearing his thirties—and trembling, his face nearly as pale as Yojing's corpse.

"You're going to let me handle this, Kazuo." He had to think of who else he could bring in to clean up this mess. Then he would have to come up with an explanation for Yojing's disappearance until he could find out who had murdered him.

"One more thing, my Liege." Kazuo was hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should mention it. This piqued Kanzagan's curiosity, and he maneuvered around the room to approach the acolyte. As he neared, Kazuo held out a shaking hand, in his palm a crumpled slip of paper.

Kanzagan took it carefully and scanned the contents. A letter from Yojing. He looked up sharply at Kazuo. "How long ago did he give this to you?"

"Weeks ago, my Liege. He told me…I should wait to send it. He told me I would know when." He looked fervently into Kanzagan's face, a thin sheen of sweat reflecting off his upper lip. "Is this when?"

Kanzagan shook his head, handing it back. "Hold on to it; you might need it in the future. Just let me handle this right now." This was planned by someone. Someone who had wanted to bring the Avatar back to the Fire Nation.

He knelt by the body once more, sweeping his hand along the old Sage's graying hair. Except for the blood, Yojing looked like he was sleeping peacefully. "I hope you died that way, my friend," Kanzagan murmured under his breath. The following weeks would not be easy on his old friend's spirit; he needed all the peace he could get.

"Kazuo," he said without looking up, and he heard the man step along the floor, alert for his instructions. "You will wait one day, and then you will tell everyone that Yojing died in meditation. Peacefully. One week from now, I will hold the last funeral rites for Yojing." Kazuo made a noise to protest, as Kanzagan knew he would, but he held up a hand. "They will be the _public_ funeral rites. However, I am going to hold a private ceremony. And I want you to be the one to burn his body."

"My Liege," Kazuo breathed, as if afraid of offending the spirits more than Kanzagan already had. "I can't do that. I'm not his last student."

"No," Kanzagan agreed. "Hikoshu was. But Yojing taught you some, didn't he?"

A long hesitation. "Well, yes, a little, but he hadn't formally adopted me as a student. I'm not honored."

Kanzagan waved him off as he stood. "It will have to do. From this moment, Kazuo, only you and I will know what happened here. And we must make sure to do everything in our power to keep Hikoshu from coming home."

He looked once more to the destroyed body of his former friend and wondered sadly what had begun. Saying a prayer for the spirit of a man who would most likely never be saved, he started to work.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The Fire Nation commander was deeply immersed in the mural before him. It was one of the many murals that graced the Jasper Sanctuary, proceeding in a line along its interior, broken intermittently by doorways and halls leading to other rooms or sanctuaries. The Temple was so immense, it would take days to follow all of the story. But Hikoshu had followed it many times over since his arrival, nearly two years previously.

He had the lengthy story memorized almost by heart. The story of the airbenders, from their origins as the nomadic tribes who roamed the southern continent to the first Nomad, Ani, who learned the art of airbending from the bison. And then onward, to the establishment of the four Temples, their spiritual havens.

The tale of the first airbender was long, drawn out over many more walls. Nin-ma had once explained it, but the significance was lost on him. The Fire Nation had its own origin stories, as well as a thousand other myths of heroes who probably never existed. But Hikoshu never cared much about history. As Master Yojing had often told him, a lot could be learned from the past, but to dwell on it was a far worse sin than to forget it. Many wars had been started on old grievances. And firebenders were more likely to carry them. So the past must stay where it was—in the past.

Hikoshu was happy living in the present. And his present currently involved the red-robed commander in front of him, the mustachioed man's attention completely absorbed in the paintings. He had known Shuei for nearly five years and had known _of_ him for far longer. The commander was infamous in the islands for his bumbling decisions and lack of real authority. But he was distantly related to the Fire Lord through marriage, and 'commander' was the lowest rank he could have without offending the honor of the Fire Lord's family.

Fortunate for Shuei that the world had been at peace for nearly fifty years, with war unlikely any time soon. Even nepotism could not cover his ineptitude, if it really threatened the country. But it did mean he had to suffer being the butt of some unfortunate jokes. As he was, now.

Hikoshu had hidden himself behind one of the many colonnades in the sanctuary, watching Shuei covertly. And every time Shuei would turn his back, Hikoshu created a gust of air that would knock the commander's ornate war helmet from his head. Surprisingly, even after the fifth time, Shuei didn't suspect a thing. He'd pick it up, brush it off, and place it back on his head, only glancing around to see where the wind might have come from. And even after the fifth time, the joke was still amusing Hikoshu.

"That's so immature." Miyo's nasally voice was low, but it almost sounded like a shout to him in his clandestine state. He whirled around, grabbing the girl's mouth so quickly that she let out a squeak of surprise. He then pulled her back against the colonnade, letting go only after he was sure that she wouldn't make any more noise.

Giving him a glare at the treatment, the young airbender novice jerked away. Or ex-novice, he noted. She'd been acting rather disdainful ever since she'd attained nunhood. It was as if those fancy tattoos had somehow promoted her from child to adult woman, and all the games that she would've laughed at a year ago now only made her frown.

It didn't matter that they were the same age. She was an Air Nun and he was still just the Avatar. So obviously, everything he did had to be _wrong_.

"What? I'm just having some fun. Is that taboo for nuns, too, now?" He turned back to watch Shuei, hoping the man hadn't heard her speaking. He didn't seem to have noticed, but he was still looking around curiously, suspecting, as he shoved his helmet on even more firmly.

"Hikoshu, when are you going to grow up?" She was still lecturing him, but at least she was doing so in a whisper. The blue tattoo on her forehead shifted as she furrowed her brow. "You're a man now—not only a man, but the Avatar. And you're acting like a twelve-year-old boy. It's about time you became seri—"

"What happened to that whole tranquility thing you nuns supposedly practice?" Hikoshu didn't even look back at her. Scowling, he knocked the commander's hat off once more. Perhaps he was becoming a little spiteful now. Something inside him told him to give the prank a rest. But that would mean Miyo would win. So he ignored that inner voice.

"How can anyone be tranquil while _you're_ here?" she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest, causing them to disappear underneath her orange shawl. "You only show up to training half the time anymore."

"Who told you that?"

"And when you are there, you waste Mistress Nin-ma's time by playing games or messing up the lessons on purpose."

"Have you been spying on—?"

"Then you spend the rest of your time isolating yourself from the rest of the Temple, acting like any attempt to be a friend is an attempt to keep you from shirking your responsibilities."

"Well, isn't that what this is?" Hikoshu snapped, determined to get a word in edge-wise. He didn't realize that the volume of his voice had risen high enough to draw Shuei's attention, but he didn't really care, either. His anger was now fully focused on Miyo. Airbending came naturally to her, so she didn't realize how it wasn't so easy for him. Two years of hard work, and novices could bend better than he. So who could blame him if he didn't waste his time training? Who could blame him if he thought he could be doing something more productive?

"Who's there?" Shuei called out, causing Hikoshu to glance around the colonnade.

"Believe it or not, Hikoshu, I actually care about you! And I want to see you succeed!" Miyo's nasally voice had gone beyond a normal volume, almost to a shout. "I don't want to see you waste all of your potential just because you have no motivation to try!"

"Will you be _quiet_?" A little too much emotion and a poorly timed execution. Instead of knocking off Shuei's hat, he knocked Shuei off his feet. The man cried out, startled, then toppled over, landing hard on his hip. The ornate helmet fell over his eyes, leaving only his thick mustache visible.

Miyo and Hikoshu both stared in horror, waiting with held breath for Shuei's reaction. And then, surprisingly, Miyo began to laugh. She covered her mouth quickly to hide her chagrin, but it was already too late. Hikoshu grinned at her and laughed, as well. Of course, it was contagious at that point, and all of Miyo's attempts to hide her amusement were futile. Instead, she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him from the room.

Before allowing her to haul him too far away, Hikoshu stepped from behind the colonnade and waved sheepishly at the man. "I'm really sorry, Commander Shuei! I'm just…practicing—" He was cut off as Miyo managed to drag him toward the main entrance.

She led Hikoshu out into the courtyard, her light gray eyes sparkling with delight and embarrassment. Her reaction alone was enough to make him grin, and he realized that he hadn't seen her laugh in nearly three months. She may have turned condescending, but she'd also turned very unhappy, and he didn't understand why. To be sure, Hikoshu hadn't known her for very long. It was nearly ten months ago that he had even really spoken to her. But she was the closest thing he had to a friend there at the Temple, and he'd learned to recognize her moods in that short time.

Now, he saw something of the girl he'd first met, young enough to laugh but mature enough to know she shouldn't. He missed that in her.

"Hikoshu, you're incorrigible!" Miyo beamed at him in her special way and reached up to straighten his Fire Sage hat. Then there was a tense moment, when she was close enough to his face that he could smell sandalwood in her hair and feel the warmth of her skin, ruddy from embarrassment. And it turned even redder as she looked him directly in the eyes, her irises the color of smoke.

"Yes." Miyo pulled away suddenly, her arms disappearing under her shawl once more. "Well. Mistress Nin-ma sent me to find you. She needs to speak with you immediately." The moment was gone—she was her unhappy self again. And Hikoshu was terribly confused. He wasn't sure what he felt, but he knew he shouldn't feel this way about an Air Nomad, especially a nun. Yet Miyo was different. Or was she? Perhaps he just wanted her to be different. Maybe it changed nothing between them.

"Well…_where_ does she need to speak with me?" He finished straightening his hat, glancing around the courtyard as if Nin-ma would have met him out there. He'd imagined that she would call on him, after he'd deduced that a Fire Nation envoy arrived. Not really sure what it was about, Hikoshu had gone ahead and put on his ceremonial robes, anyway, which he now yanked on to remove the wrinkles left over from storage.

Miyo blushed a crimson red once more, looking away to avoid his gaze. "Oh, yes. Um…she said she'd see you in her study. She sent me because she thought I'd know where you were. Not because I volunteered." The explanation was thrown on hastily, as if she were worried he might think she wanted to see him. It almost made him roll his eyes.

"I'll be sure to let Mistress Nin-ma know what a good job you did," Hikoshu said, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice. He gave her a perfunctory bow and turned to cut through the sanctuary, toward the dormitories.

"Hikoshu!" He looked over his shoulder at the sound of his name. Miyo gazed at him desperately, her mouth moving as if to say something. And then with a noise of frustration, she stormed off, her hands tightening into very un-nun-like fists at her sides. Hikoshu watched her go in amazement, taken aback by the sudden mood swing. Was she mad at him? What had he done now? Shaking his head, he started back into the sanctuary.

Hikoshu blamed his master. Or the Fire Nation tradition, rather, that segregated the women firebenders to private academies, thus guaranteeing he never saw anyone of the opposite sex while growing up. It was to protect them, he was told. Their gender couldn't control their emotions as well as men, and that was very dangerous for a firebender. Best to keep them separate and teach them just to control their bending.

He often wondered what those Sages would think if they ever met Nin-ma. Maybe it would make them reconsider just how emotional women could be. Frankly, the Elders were utterly stoic—they could stare down any one of the Sages.

On the other hand, Hikoshu had also met plenty of girl airbenders who were _very_ emotional. Girls who didn't make much sense, like Miyo. And that was why he blamed his upbringing. Perhaps if he'd known more women when he was younger, he wouldn't be as confused as he was now.

Or maybe he would've understood better why he thought of Miyo even when she wasn't there, the image of her large, laughing eyes coming unbidden to his mind at the most inappropriate times. The daily meditations that he'd practiced for nearly a decade were now becoming difficult to complete. And he could hear Master Yojing's words echoing in his head, _the Avatar is not meant to be distracted from his purpose_.

Well, then, why were women so…distracting?

He barely noticed that Shuei had left the sanctuary, his attention fully on thoughts that so often occupied his mind. Almost without looking, Hikoshu slowly trekked through the inner sanctuary and toward the living quarters. Above him, stretching into the distance, statues watched from crevices in the round dome. They were statues of former airbenders, great women who had once guided this Temple. And now they studied him coldly, judging him. Wondering if he could possibly measure up to his past lives.

Hikoshu never wondered the same thing of himself—couldn't even if he wanted to. His responsibilities were too large, his comprehension of them too inadequate. So he just did what he had to do, but in his mind, he dreamt of pretty girls.

The occasional nun crossed his path, but by the time Hikoshu reached the cloisters, no one was in sight. It must be mid-day—time for the noon devotional. He looked down into the garden as he walked along the second-story veranda, expecting to see at least one novice sneaking away from meditation. But it seemed as if today, they were all in attendance.

Hikoshu was half tempted to try the air-lock on the door of the study but knew perfectly well that he'd never be able to open it. So, as always, he just knocked hard and stood back for the novices that would invariably answer.

But novices didn't open the door today. Instead, he found Byan and Khu. Their expressions somber, they ushered him in with silent gestures. Hikoshu eyed them warily as he entered the hall, expecting to make his way into the other room. But he stopped at the sight of Nin-ma standing at the bead curtain.

He didn't hear the door close, his attention on the head Elder. Her face was emotionless, but he had known her long enough now to see what others might fail to notice. Her eyes squinted too much, her mouth pursed slightly. That combined with the two Elders behind him told Hikoshu something was really wrong.

"Mistress Nin-ma." He made a short bow, his gaze never leaving her. She barely nodded, holding the beads back for him. No admonishment for being late. No sarcastic quip about his disheveled appearance. Just a blank look as he slowly stepped into the other room.

The study held two Fire Nation lieutenant-generals and one general, distinguishable by the gold sigils on their helmets now tucked under their arms. Which, of course, didn't surprise him. Hikoshu had known from novices as well as Shuei's appearance that there was an envoy. They were usually at the Temple to deliver goods or negotiate trade agreements over the Moqui Strait, which the Fire Nation continued to honor despite Omashu's recent demands of half the trade revenue past Bajke.

What did surprise him, though, were the professions of the men. The military was rarely ever sent for such business, especially army officers. They only visited other countries in such groups during the threat of war or after failed diplomacy.

Nin-ma had entered behind him, moving toward the table that no one was sitting at. She didn't gesture for anyone to do so, either. Instead, she faced the three officers.

"Hikoshu," she said tightly, though she didn't look at him. He stiffened at the use of his name. She invariably used 'Avatar' as his title around officials of other countries. Never once was he Hikoshu to her. "I trust you know these men."

No. He didn't. The general seemed familiar—he thought it was General Zhen, though the old man looked far older than he did two years ago. He held his helmet under his left arm, his chest covered in the red leather armor of official military business. His gray beard seemed even longer and his bald head, covered in liver spots, glinted from the skylight. The other two men were much younger, unlikely to have held their ranks for very long. And after Hikoshu's blunt introduction, they went to their knees. Zhen remained standing and did not seem to entertain the notion of changing his position.

"Master Avatar," he said, bowing shallowly. "Forgive me if I do not kneel. My knees are old." Hikoshu preferred that none of them did, but only nodded his assent.

"The General arrived today," said Nin-ma slowly, her expression tense, "with an urgent message that they demanded to share with you immediately." She hesitated, allowing Zhen to give him the news. News Hikoshu already knew he didn't want.

"Master Avatar," General Zhen began, carefully weighing his words. "I'm not sure there is any easy way to ever say this, and they are tidings I always hate to bear. However…I am saddened to tell you that your former master, Fire Sage Yojing, has passed away."

Zhen didn't even need to finish the sentence. Hikoshu didn't hear it, anyway. There was a strange humming in his ears, like a hive of adder-wasps, blocking all sound. Yojing was dead. What was he supposed to be feeling right now? Horror? Anguish? All he could feel was a strange vibration in his hands, that crept up his arms and wrapped tightly around his chest. Making it hard to pay attention to whatever the General was saying beyond the adder-wasps.

"…a sad day for the Fire Nation. He was taken from us too early. But the spirits will protect him as their own, and we hope that you find solace in the fact he may watch you more closely from another realm."

"How did he die?" Hikoshu heard his voice crack, or maybe he imagined it. It certainly sounded stronger than he had thought it would. He had no breath to speak with, and his chest ached for air. Yojing was dead. Not just 'not here.' Dead.

Zhen hesitated, then answered with as much sympathy as he could muster—which wasn't much. "He died peacefully in meditation, alone in his quarters." Master Yojing would have wanted to be with his children, but at least it had been peaceful. No terrible accident. Nothing to haunt him after death.

Dead. Hikoshu kept coming back to it, as if repeating the word would make it more real. Yojing's face, already half-faded with time, seemed now impossible to recall. Like Death was taking him from his memory, too. It was all a distraction, though, Hikoshu knew. Distraction from the question he needed to ask, but didn't really want to.

"When is the funeral?"

There was silence. Not a soft silence, like a sympathetic pause for Hikoshu. Nor a reverent one, like in memory of Yojing. It was a tense silence that drove the buzzing in Hikoshu's head crazy, and the three men stared at him as if the next words spoken might shatter whatever tranquility that silence held.

"The funeral has already been performed," Zhen said slowly. "The Fire Lord presided over it."

"Wait—what?" The tingling had turned to numbness, and the muscles in his face felt loose. "No. No, that's not possible. I'm his last student." Maybe they just didn't understand the rites. His thoughts had turned as blurry as his vision. Hikoshu couldn't be crying, but he blinked his eyes clear anyway. "I preside over the funeral. I'm supposed to…" _Supposed to burn him_.

He could sense more than see their concern; the awkward hesitation, the uncomfortable glances between each other before Zhen answered. "The Fire Lord decreed that tradition could be ignored this one time. As Master Yojing was such a great man…"

"No, it _can't_ be ignored." Anger flared inside him, and Hikoshu felt his heart beating once more. The rites couldn't be waived. They were religious absolutions – ceremonies that cleansed the Fire Sages of past sins, demanded by the very element they mastered. The Fire Sages practiced a destructive art, and the only way to enter the spirit realm freely was to be forgiven.

That was supposed to be him. The reason why he had to preside. It was the symbolic assumption of Yojing's guilt, done so his master could rest. And without it, there was no peace.

Yojing could not cross from this world.

"It's my duty to forgive him for what he's taught me. To take on his burden." They just didn't understand. Maybe if he explained this to them, they'd see the mistake. "So it can't be anyone else. Just me." Somewhere outside the buzzing, and the tingling, and the clouds that filled his thoughts, Hikoshu realized Byan was holding him up. Had he been about to fall? His chest hurt and hummed under the invisible band, struggling to move.

"The Fire Lord felt in this particular instance that Master Yojing should be honored by the State, and not by the…" Zhen trailed off, suddenly realizing the rest of his statement could bring offense.

It did more than that. The anger that had flared now exploded, and the band was gone as his lungs filled with air. Nin-ma said something in caution, but he didn't hear her words, the haze in his mind turning into murk.

"By the what? The Avatar?" It wasn't just a mistake. They'd chosen to do this to his master purposefully, and fury surged through him, fueling every limb. "You don't know what you've done." But they did know. Dear spirits, they knew, and they didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Master Avatar, but it's already been performed." Zhen raised his head high, suddenly taking on a fierce persona.

"My master is condemned to eternal unrest, and all you can say is _sorry_?" It would have been laughable had it not been so horrible. The rage boiled in him as his thoughts turned even murkier, and somewhere on the edge of them was a tantalizing emptiness. Devoid of heat, of anger, and of hurt. "He can _never_ have peace now! How is a 'sorry' going to make up for that?"

Someone had grabbed his arm, but Hikoshu ripped it away. He didn't want anyone touching him. No comfort, because any kind of comfort they could offer would be pointless. The only person he wanted wasn't there. And never could be, now.

Too much. But Hikoshu could just give in. Give in to the wrath and sink into the dark edges of his consciousness, where it promised not to hurt anymore. It was tantalizingly close, and part of him thought that maybe if he could hide there, he wouldn't have to face this reality, just for a little while.

Drawn by such a possibility, he fell into his mind.

It was like losing control of every muscle in his body—surrendering himself to a force that took his anger and made it an entity that could move without him. And with sweet detachment, he watched as that entity raised its arms.

Zhen was yelling something, and so was Nin-ma. He could see it from behind his eyes, hear them through his ears. He had no idea what they were saying, and in that dim mist, he didn't care, either.

The entity was bending fire that he could not feel. The officers moved into defensive stances, but the flames swam over them – engulfed them. Was he killing them? Did it matter? Hikoshu wasn't doing anything, as the entity swung around, producing an air shield that blocked whatever blasts the Elders had thrown.

And then back to the officers, who had apparently survived the first attack, only to counter with fire blasts that the force deftly shoved aside. They were going to die. The entity had no love for them.

His body was creating bursts of air that he could have never done himself. A sphere of wind was surrounding him now, swallowing the desperate attempts of the firebenders to save themselves. Somewhere near the edge of his eyes, he thought he saw Nin-ma try to stop him, her body twisting as she bended. But the entity holding him rotated agilely as it threw a mass of air at her. And then she flew into the wall.

Hikoshu didn't know when it was going to end. His body had turned back to the firebenders for yet another attack, and he could already tell that it was going to be big. It was going to be large enough to destroy the room, possibly anyone inside it. And all he could feel was a vague interest in how powerful his bending really was.

That was how it should have played out. But suddenly, the room jerked sideways, the firebenders lost from view. He realized that he'd fallen to the ground, knocked over by a gust. And something else; the band was back across his chest, constricting his lungs.

No. It was the bead curtain, the strands wrapped around his torso. The entity set these on fire, uncaring how they might burn him, and pushed itself up as the flaming strings fell away.

But then the world jerked again, and this time—

This time, Hikoshu could feel it. Something smashing into him so hard that it tore at his arm and crushed his ribs, throwing him into the wall. Then there was smoke. Smoke, and pain, and anger.

And so much sadness.

Shaking with agony, Hikoshu gave in to the darkness again. Though now he saw nothing at all.

* * *

**A/N:** All these traditions are made up. As is almost everything in this story. I don't contradict canon, but I had to create a _lot_ of cultural stuff to explain what we don't know or to make it obvious this society is 1,000 years in the past. That being said, the idea of firebending as a sin was my interpretation back when our only canon on firebending was 1x16 The Deserter. By the time The Firebending Masters rolled around, I was already five or six months done with this story. There was no way to change it. So I'm assuming, in terms of timeline, the Sun Warriors civilization had already been lost 1,000 years before, and the Fire Nation had already begun to deviate away from the idea of Fire as Life. There're still traces of it, as they do have religious dedications to the sun (there's at least one mention of a sun ceremony at some point in the story). But in actual practice, they've developed some very severe notions about firebending. The way I'm interpreting it, the Fire Nation has a religion that's a weird amalgam of Shintoism and Islamic-Judeo-Christian...ism.


	5. Faith

**Chapter 4 - Faith**

* * *

His face hurt. It was the only sensation Hikoshu had at first. But slowly, he began to feel the other aches, as well. His hands tingled vaguely, and his back throbbed as if it had been broken in two places. All over, he felt exhausted. Pulled as thin as a wire and then allowed to snap back. His arm began to cramp under him, and so he carefully rolled over to his other side. It didn't relieve the pain, but he did suddenly become aware of the bedding underneath him.

Hikoshu opened his eyes slowly, dreading what awaited him. He admittedly didn't remember much of the conflict that led him to this, but he remembered enough to know that he likely destroyed the room and several of the people therein. It hurt to think about, so he chose not to.

Still, what he saw surprised him. Light poured in from the doorway, but the room it illuminated wasn't his. There were no furnishings, other than a meditation mat and the mattress of bamboo shavings that he was huddled on. No trunks, no decorations. Just like a nun's room. And a glance out the door proved his guess right, the cream-colored walls of the dormitories stretching out beyond the terrace.

The impropriety alone made him sit up despite his complaints.

"Hikoshu!" He heard Miyo's soft voice, filled with relief, and his head snapped toward it. She sat at the head of the bed, tucked between the mattress and the wall, such that he'd missed her in his inspection. Her shawl had been removed, leaving her in the sleeveless yellow robe the nuns wore underneath. "You're awake." With a mixture of joy and concern, she pushed herself up, planting her hand on his pillow. "I have to find Mistress Nin-ma."

"Wait." He grabbed her arm, starting to ask what had happened before he noticed he was bare-chested. Coloring at the thought of what else was bare, he changed his question. "Where are my clothes?"

"Lie down," she said, nimbly prying his fingers from her arm. "Mistress Nin-ma told me to find her the moment you woke up." It left no room for any other questions, but he had one more anyway.

"Miyo!" She hesitated as she replaced her orange shawl, reluctantly turning to face him. "Where…where's Nin-ma? What happened?" If she had been reluctant before, she became almost tight-lipped now, heading for the door.

"She's seeing to matters." The answer was vague, but the look Miyo gave him as she slipped out the door worried him even more. Relief, tinged with something a lot like fear.

Hikoshu carefully lay back into the bedding, his body protesting the movement. He wasn't evil—he wasn't even dangerous. But he had lost control. Something that Master Yojing had warned him about a thousand times. _Master Yojing_…

He closed his eyes against the harsh light, forcing his mind blank. Despite the weary ache in his muscles, he needed to meditate. Needed to focus on something that wasn't the present. So he followed his breaths, creeping in steady beats through his chest. The rhythm lulled his mind, smoothed the edges of the pain.

It seemed like mere moments when Nin-ma arrived, touching his shoulder to waken him. He opened his eyes, blinking clear the fog that covered them. Had he fallen asleep while meditating? His attention was immediately drawn to the master airbender, her form casting a shadow over him.

"How are you, Hikoshu?" Her voice was gentle in a way he'd never heard before. She seated herself next to him on the bed, a hand reaching up to rest on his forehead. It was odd, having a woman like her comfort him so gently. Where she'd always been a teacher, she was now almost like a mother. Or what he imagined one was like.

"I'm…" He wanted to answer but was scared to. Quietly, he searched her hooded face for some trace of injury. He knew he had hurt her, but he didn't know exactly how. "Are you alright? What did I…?"

"I'm fine." She was being honest, but her tone was also admonishing. As if he were being silly to think her so weak. "I must admit, not many people have managed to throw me. But I recover quickly."

If it was a joke, it was lost on Hikoshu. He tried to sit up, but her hand was suddenly on his shoulder, holding him down firmly. "Mistress Nin-ma, what happened to them? Did I…did I…?" Kill them? He couldn't ask that. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to know.

She shook her head, though her expression was grave. "Hikoshu, listen. You must listen to me, and don't react. The generals are fine, as are Byan and Khu. And to be honest, I'm surprised that they are. You were very dangerous for a moment. Very dangerous." She sounded so serious, he almost doubted she was telling the whole truth. He tried to get up again, but her hand was hard on his shoulder.

She continued as if she didn't even notice his attempt to move. "You don't understand what happened." It was a statement, rather than a question. "You may not even remember. But you need to learn from it. As a firebender, you already know the need for control. As the Avatar, you must know what that control means." She had started to lecture, now his teacher again, and for once he was happy to listen.

"You entered something called the Avatar State." She didn't need to explain this—he'd already been warned about it by the Fire Sages. He'd had no idea what it was, and they could hardly tell him what it felt like. But he always knew at some point he would experience it. "It was fortunate that we were able to stop you without seriously hurting you."

"By throwing a…"

"Yes, by throwing a table at you," Nin-ma agreed, giving him a lopsided grin. That might have been the first grin she'd ever given him. "Your emotions are very powerful. More so than other people's. And strong emotions trigger a defense mechanism inside you. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's the only thing that may protect you in a desperate situation." How could he not be ashamed of it? Years of practicing rigorous control of his emotions—control that was essential for a firebender—and now to realize that anytime he couldn't control something, he was apt to hurt anyone around him? It made him feel insecure.

Nin-ma must have sensed his misgiving. She pressed her hand against his forehead again, pushing back his hair. The touch was comforting.

"Someday, when you're further in your studies, you _can _control the Avatar State. You can learn to control it. But you have to learn how to control yourself first." She smiled. "What this means is that we must work harder, Hikoshu. You did some incredible airbending in that room, which only confirms my belief that you'll be a master soon enough." He wasn't so sure of that, but it didn't matter. He _would_ work harder. Whatever it took for something like that never to happen again. "I know it's what your former master would have wanted."

The mention of Yojing in such tones brought the pain back to the forefront of his thoughts. And some of the anger. But he didn't lash out now; he couldn't even if he wanted to. The anger just fueled the hurt.

"It doesn't make sense, Mistress Nin-ma. No one would have done that to a Fire Sage. Not even the Fire Lord. It's just not—" He cut off abruptly, doubting that he could say another word. Nin-ma didn't reply, but she said enough by simply stroking his hair.

He sunk back into his thoughts, not really sure he wanted to think about anything right then. Certainly nothing about Yojing. But, he realized, thoughts of Yojing weren't going to go away quickly. They weren't going to go away for a very long time.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu brushed his hands through the hot sand, feeling the fine spray of the waves as they rushed to shore. He sat far enough away that the water barely lapped at his feet, though he knew shortly it would surge forward, drawn by some invisible force. The tides were constant, eternal. But they were always changing, guided by a rhythm he didn't hope to understand. Sometimes he felt like those tides. Forever the same, but never the same at any moment. And also guided by a rhythm he could never fathom.

The rocky cliffs rose around him, enclosing him in a tiny cove that didn't seem so tiny when compared to him. The Air Temple was even higher still, and if he twisted his head far back, he would be able to make out its towers, shining in the mid-day sun. Occasionally, he would see black specks flying out across the water. He didn't know if they were gullicans, bison, or airbenders on their orange gliders. But down there, it was often the only contact he had with a world outside the cove.

He liked it that way.

The sun baked him, pouring much needed energy throughout his body. He enjoyed the heat—it revitalized him in ways sleep never could. And he loved the feel of the sand between his fingers, shifting under his legs. Though it was built on the rocky cliffs of an island, the Air Temple was isolated from the earth, its walls rising far above the fog that occasionally rolled over it. It gave a person the impression that the Temple floated on clouds, disorienting anyone who looked down. And Hikoshu was loath to admit it, but he still got very airsick.

So he cherished his momentary respite with the sun, earth, and waves. And even the wind, chilled with sea mist, was refreshing. He could hide away here, refrain from talking to anyone, and simply meditate.

Today, though, he had no interest in meditating. Dark thoughts chased him even into his small sanctuary, and the clouds on the horizon seemed as threatening as his lurking conscience. There was something important, barely on the edge of his comprehension, that he refused to think about. Forcefully, he shoved his toes into the wet sand as if trying to bury himself from what his conscience wanted him to consider. Not now. Not here.

He heard heavy footfalls on the sand, slipping awkwardly as they made their way toward him. It was such an unusual sound that he easily heard it over the murmur of the waves. It caused the hairs on his neck to rise.

Before Hikoshu could even puzzle through who may have found him, Miyo grabbed his shoulder for balance as she fell down in the sand next to him, her robe riding up to her knees in her graceful tumble. She shot him a grin as she pulled her hair off her neck, a long blue line following her elbow and ending under her arm. Deftly, she twisted the thick mass into a bun.

"You're hard to track," she said breathlessly, brushing the sand from her legs. "What do you do? Climb down the aqueduct system?"

Yes, well, that was exactly what he did. Shaking his head with a grin, Hikoshu aimed a seashell for the smooth waters past the shore. It would never make it, nor could it ever skip like the water-worn rocks of the Eastern Islands. Unless, of course, it had a little help. Partly showing off, he threw the shell, creating a gentle breeze to guide it out into the water. It skipped three times, disappearing into the shallow waves.

Miyo smirked in response and searched for her own shell. When she found a thin, flat one, she wiped off the sand carefully, then gave it a far stronger toss. Eight skips. She laughed at the blank look on his face, shoving his shoulder as she pulled her shawl into her lap. "You throw like a girl."

"And you bend like a man," he retorted, making sure to look offended. "Not attractive at all. Disgraceful, really." She laughed at that, her teeth peeking out from behind her lips. But then they lapsed into silence. He was comfortable with the quiet. Sometimes it felt better not to talk at all.

His peace, however, didn't last long. Even before she spoke, Hikoshu anticipated what she was going to say. With irritation, he sought out another seashell.

"I didn't have a chance to talk to you after…afterward." Her tone was both somber and hesitant, as if she was afraid what his reaction might be. He trained his reaction very hard toward apathy. "I was worried about you, Hikoshu. When I first saw you, you were burned and…covered in bruises."

The physical pains were the least of his concerns, though he didn't tell her that. There wasn't much she could do about it, and all he wanted was to forget anything ever happened. Miyo didn't seem to understand that, shifting in the sand so she could see his face better. He merely focused his attention on his new-found seashell, scratching at the three-day growth on his chin.

"Please, Hikoshu. I just want to help you. I want you to trust me." She grabbed his arm, trying to draw him back to her. He glanced at her sharply then gave a sigh as he rubbed at his face. It felt rough under his hand, and very weak. Like the skin was about to fall off. He wondered if he looked the way he felt.

"Miyo, listen. I know you're trying to help me. I know that and I appreciate it. But there are just some things that you can't help." _Being the Avatar is a lonely business._ "I don't want you to save me. I just want you to be my friend."

Her response was barely a whisper. "I don't think I can."

The silence that followed was definitely awkward, nothing but the lap of the waves punctuating their thoughts. There was an immeasurable barrier between them, separating them even if distance didn't. And there wasn't anything he could say that could possibly bridge the gap.

So Hikoshu allowed his mind to wander toward the dark gray clouds gathering far away. His father used to have a saying: the sun shines brightest before a storm. In the fishing villages, storms happened quickly, often violently, and usually without warning. Hikoshu wasn't sure if the saying was a way for the fishermen to predict an unpredictable maelstrom, or if the sun simply seemed brighter in memory when rain came down in sheets and gales battered the docks. But for the first time, he felt he understood the statement far more inherently. The sun was brilliant that day.

He leaned forward, resting sandy elbows on his knees. His feet were now getting wet, the briny water foaming around his toes.

"What do you think happens when we die?"

He didn't intend to ask her; he wasn't even sure he had been thinking about it. But now the question felt natural, as if such a beautiful day would lead to discussions of the after-life. And it dawned on him he really wanted to know what she thought.

Miyo didn't seem bothered by the question. She almost seemed to expect it. Reaching up to push mist-slicked strands of hair from her face, she furrowed her brow in thought. "The Air Nomads are nomads in all respects, not just a mortal form." She stretched out her legs, plunging her naked feet into the water. "We believe that it is our purpose to wander throughout the earth, and throughout time, searching."

That didn't sound very peaceful at all. Not what he'd been hoping for. "Searching for what?"

Miyo glanced over at him, her expression surprised at the question. "For truth. Peace. Unity. What every person wants. We think that people who die are reincarnated into other lives, where they are given another chance to search for the ultimate truths." Hikoshu understood reincarnation perfectly well. Except his path had no goal. He was destined to be who he was, forever.

"And what if you find it?"

She smiled lightly, and for a moment he saw something akin to bliss on her face. She truly believed this idea. It was enough to give him heart. "Then we'll be at peace. We'll search no more."

"It sounds wonderful." And it really did. It meant second chances – hundreds of chances, really – to get everything right. The end of the journey was always the same, for whoever found it. Happiness. If there were any merciful spirits who had some control over the lives of mortals, he hoped that they agreed with the Air Nomads. "So how do you find it?"

Miyo gave him a devilish look, then whispered playfully, "You stop moping." Hikoshu looked at her askance, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Her tone grew more matter-of-fact as she continued. "There's no one right way to reach enlightenment. It's different for everyone. Even the Air Nomads." She held her hands out in front of her, as if balancing her points between them. "There are the Temple Nomads, who believe introspection and meditation lead to Peace. Spiritual enlightenment. And there are the Plains Nomads, who believe great deeds and full lives lead to Peace. Mortal enlightenment." She then dropped her hands to rest them in the sand again. "And that's just the Air Nomads. It is our belief anyone can attain it, no matter what road they travel."

Silence again, though far more comfortable this time. He knew shortly they'd have to head in; Miyo had devotionals and he had training. And the tides had to come in at some point. But right then, he was happy just to sit on the beach in good company.

"So who do you want to come back as?" Hikoshu said, leaning over to give her a gentle nudge. She looked up at him in surprise, a grin spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you have to come back and do it all again, who would you want to be? I imagine you have a preference…"

"Well, of course, but…," she trailed off with a laugh, ducking her head in exaggerated embarrassment. "I always wanted to be—and don't laugh, because I know you will—I always wanted to be a waterbender."

"A waterbender?" Naturally, he had to laugh. And she had to shove his shoulder for it. "That's kind of odd. Why a waterbender?"

"Well, you might not know this, but waterbenders—or at least the good ones—have the ability to heal." Her smile became wistful and she looked off to the horizon, pushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Plus they don't have nuns, so the women can..."

Can marry? Can love? The awkward silence began to set in again, the good mood fading slightly. But Miyo tried to salvage it at the last second, blushing at her indiscretion. "Who would you come back as, Hikoshu?"

And realized her blunder belatedly, causing her to blush an even fiercer red, her tattoos standing out against her skin. Of course, Hikoshu knew exactly who he'd come back as. Maybe not the exact person, but he could outline his life in just a few sentences. There wasn't much room for variation.

But Hikoshu rescued her, his voice dry to the point of sarcasm. "Well, I haven't given it much thought but…I'd have to say a clothing-bender."

"A _clothing-bender_?" She sounded astonished. "Why would you ever want to bend cloth--?" His wicked smile interrupted her question, and she gave an audible gasp as she shoved him again. "Hikoshu! You're incorrigible! That's just downright indecent."

He couldn't suppress a laugh at her expense. "I never said I'd bend yours! I swear I'll avoid the Water Tribes, just to be safe." In response, she grabbed a handful of wet sand launched it at his face. It hit his cheek, falling down in clumps onto his chest.

"How's that for waterbending?" she smirked, washing her hands off in the surf. He stared at the back of her head in surprise, then dove forward, tackling her from behind. Dragged down by his weight, Miyo gave a soft squeal as she fell into the water. "Hikoshu! You're getting me wet!"

"How's that for waterbending?" he said sarcastically, grasping her arms as she struggled to break free, the waves building up around her. She managed to save a hand which she promptly used to splash him, soaking part of his robes.

And the next moment, he was kissing her.

It was a light-headed feeling, as if he were breaking some sacred taboo. His heart was hammering, pounding inside his neck. And he felt a surge of release in his chest, like he'd finally freed himself of something. To his overwhelmed senses, she tasted of seawater and smelled of incense smoke, two things he'd now remember fondly. In response to his touch, her hands curled into his hair, loosing it from its top knot, and she seemed to have forgotten the surf.

Or at least until it became too insistent to ignore, and he had to let her up or risk drowning her. The moment the kiss was broken, the silence became full of contentment. Miyo, her hair streaming around her in wet tendrils, rested her head on his shoulder, her hand reaching to clasp his. As they both watched the darkening horizon together, he felt completely separate from reality. It was the first time Hikoshu had thought of nothing but the moment in a long while. The world was perfect.

"I have to go."

"I know." He also knew that she wasn't talking about just her devotions. Whatever they might feel for each other, it was pointless to continue it. They both had very separate paths that were only briefly coinciding. And they would soon come to the end of the overlap. The kiss was amazing, but it was a moment stolen from time. She had to continue being a nun and he the Avatar.

Miyo let go of his hand and stood up, producing a field of air that wrung the water from her hair and clothes. Drops of it, as well as sand, hit Hikoshu, but he didn't look up. Miyo didn't ask him to, either.

"I trust in you."

It was the last thing she said before she walked away, though he pondered it long after she had left. What did she trust? Why did she trust him? He wasn't sure he trusted much himself, so the sudden faith was odd. But it was also nice knowing that there was one other person, beside his master, that he hadn't disappointed. And with a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. He was late; there were other people that he had to try not to disappoint.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"He's weak."

Chian stood at the window, the afternoon breeze catching her graying hair and floating it around her. Save for the flapping of her orange robes, the room was silent. The other airbenders sat in ordered rows, six women in total, low desks placed in front of them. Individually, yet methodically, their hands moved over the parchments on the desks, brushes between their lithe fingers tracing ink characters onto the paper.

"He's young." Nin-ma's answer was a simple as Chian's, but it explained far more. She didn't look up at the nun at the window, her eyes focused on the calligraphic task at hand. The other nuns did not even acknowledge the exchange.

"He's selfish," the older woman said, persistent. She folded her arms loosely under her shawl.

"He's passionate."

"He's violent," Chian countered.

Nin-ma gave a sigh, lowering her brush to the table in order to gaze at the other nun. "He's a firebender. Please, Elder Chian, come sit by me and help us finish. You're blocking our light."

Chian slowly looked out the window again, observing Hikoshu below in the courtyard. He had a little girl lifted up on his shoulders, her yellow skirts pushed up to her clothed knees, as several more children ran about his legs. He was juggling them, throwing one into the air with bursts of wind and picking up another to do the same. The girls laughed as they floated down, looking like tiny yellow dandelions on the breeze.

"He's lazy. All he does is play. If he paid half as much attention to his training as he does to his games, he might have mastered _something_ by now." Chian sounded bitter as she moved away from the window, taking her seat at an empty desk next to Nin-ma.

"You know as well as I, Chian, that airbending is hard for him." Nin-ma had returned to her calligraphy, her eyes trained on the paper as she worked. "He has spent ten years learning how to firebend—learning the exact opposite of what we wish to teach him. We must be patient. After all, he is the Avatar. He will learn."

Chian picked up her brush, though she remained distracted. "We don't have time to be patient, Nin-ma. Ba Sing Se threatens the Northern Air Temple, while Omashu settlements encroach on the territory of the plains Nomads in the South."

"The Avatar knows. He will fight when he is ready."

"This Avatar doesn't wish to fight. He hides from everyone. We do the world a disservice to help him hide here."

"We shelter the Avatar, Chian. We must protect him."

"He must protect us."

Silence followed, and their shadows lengthened on the wall. The sun would soon be too low to work by. The children's laughter floated up occasionally, marked by squeals of delight. One would think the world was very serene, though the thoughts of the nuns were heavy.

"If something were to happen to the plains Nomads…," Chian suddenly continued, as if there had been no long space of quiet, "…then there would be no cycle. The Avatar could not be reborn."

"We will not disappear, Chian."

She glanced at Nin-ma, a frown marking the deep wrinkles on her face. "If something were to happen to Hikoshu, however…he would be reborn as an airbender. And perhaps his training would be more successful than it is now." Nin-ma's hand stopped at the implicit suggestion, and she looked up at the older woman in genuine surprise. Chian simply stared back, then collected the brush and inkstone. "We do not choose to fight. However, there is more at stake than our own lives."

Nin-ma was about to speak, but suddenly thought better of it, letting the Elder leave in peace. She then sighed, set down her brush, and began to pack up as well. Outside the window, the sun just started to dip below the horizon and the laughter ceased.

* * *

**A/N:** I cut the scene where Hikoshu visits Sidhari. Many may remember that scene, and I'm only cutting it because I don't think it adds much (other than setting up his meeting with Sidhari 45 chapters from now, but I don't think anyone would really remember than anyway). I will _probably_ put it back in at some point, especially if its omission produces confusion.


	6. Pretense

**Chapter 5 - Pretense**

* * *

"Your Highness. I'm glad you could meet with me on such short notice." The brush fell from Gi-Luon's hands as he stood, his note abandoned on the waist-high desk, and he gave a deep bow to the young man now darkening his door.

"I was just about to leave when I received your invitation." Fire Prince Nizan strode into the room with the ignorant, brash confidence of youth, the stiff leather of his uniform creaking on top of a silk tunic. A military outfit, though he hardly looked like the military type. Gi-Luon would know. He'd been in the military for more years than this boy had been alive.

Nizan was certainly young, no more than eighteen, with the same golden eyes as his father, the Fire Lord Kanzagan. But he had his mother's soft brown hair and her tapering features that made him look more like a boy than the man he almost was. Filled with the hauteur that only excessive power could produce, he threw himself into one of Gi-Luon's green painted chairs, sprawling his arms across the rests. He didn't even bother to pull off his boots.

"You said you had something that might interest me," Nizan continued, wiping at his forehead where his helmet had set, his hair folded up into a tight knot on the back of his head to accommodate the metal headgear. Though where that helmet was now, Gi-Luon couldn't guess.

"Yes." Despite the informality of the Prince, Gi-Luon was unfazed, and he strode across the room to make some tea for the impudent boy. They certainly presented a contrast – the broad shoulders and enormous height of Gi-Luon, versus the slender, almost effeminate features of Nizan. But Gi-Luon still acted deferential. Just for Nizan's benefit.

"You're returning to the Fire Nation today?" Gi-Luon purposefully avoided the topic of the summons, bringing a cup of tea back to Nizan.

He took the metal cup with a frown, either unimpressed with the 'grandeur' of the military-issue dish or unimpressed with Gi-Luon's evasiveness. "I'm returning to tour. This was just a quick stop for resupply, before we head for the Clay Reed Atoll."

"Beautiful reef," Gi-Luon answered pleasantly, finally taking a seat across from Nizan. "But I hope you enjoyed a little of what Luogyan has to offer during your stay."

Nizan grimaced before sipping his tea. "Fish and wine-hall girls. Like any other port city."

Gi-Luon laughed a deep, booming laugh that obviously unsettled the Prince. "Indeed. Luogyan is special in its complete commonality. But that's what I love about it. The peace…the lack of pretension." Unconsciously, his eyes were drawn to the window, thrown open on the bay. A heavy salt breeze occasionally drifted in, holding the scents of a mid-day fish market. A horrid smell, but one that delighted him nonetheless. It had always reminded him of happier times.

"General, I really have to be going." Nizan's voice was impatient, and Gi-Luon glanced back to see his face equally so. He considered again how much youth was wasted on the young. They had almost no responsibilities, and yet they rushed around anyhow, as if convinced that happiness wouldn't come to those who waited.

He'd been like that, once. But he had learned with time that patience and enjoyment went hand-in-hand.

"I'm afraid my request for a meeting isn't so simple," Gi-Luon said apologetically, then held up a hand as Nizan began to rise. "Please, Your Highness, bear with me. It's a matter concerning your very government. But it's rather confidential, and I wish to have your word that our discussion here will not be shared with others."

"I have nothing to do with the government," Nizan said, settling back in almost bland indifference. "Speak to my father about politics."

"Actually, this matter very much concerns you. It concerns _only_ you. That's why I would like to keep it between us."

"Fine." Nizan waved his hand, as if that would end the matter, and set his tin cup on a neighboring table. "I won't tell anyone. What is it you want?"

Gi-Luon wasn't foolish enough to think that Nizan's promise was worth anything. But instilling in him a sense of power – a belief that he was controlling the situation – was essential. "I've been made aware of some of the happenings in your Court." He waited a moment, pretending to hesitate, and then caught Nizan's eye. "Regarding the Avatar."

Now he had the boy's attention, and Nizan straightened visibly in the chair. "The Avatar?" His tone was bored, but not bored enough to hide his sudden apprehension.

"Indeed." Everything about Gi-Luon's demeanor was a carefully contrived act. His strained attempt at nonchalance, his barely hidden nerves. His gaze meeting Nizan's with confidence even as he fiddled 'unconsciously' with his cup. "Tell me, Your Highness, do you know much of the history of the Avatar?"

Nizan pursed full, delicate lips and thoughtfully scanned the sword-eel carvings in the ceiling. "It has come up in my studies a number of times, I suppose." The response was also an act, but Gi-Luon could see right through it. Right to the stiffness in his grip, his hands against a folded knee.

Smiling, Gi-Luon stood up to take his abandoned cup. "Then you know what the purpose of the Avatar is."

"To keep balance, prevent war, protect us from evil and such." Nizan's voice was flippant as Gi-Luon returned the drink to its stand. "History was never my best subject. What does this have to do with me?"

"It has to do with history, Your Highness," he said, taking his time to rearrange the tea kettle and saucers on the stand. No matter how rushed Nizan was, he couldn't seem that way himself. "Surely, you know of our mutual past. Forty years ago, when the Avatar sanctioned both our nations for our parts in the war." Gi-Luon cringed just slightly as he again took his seat, his mouth tugging into a barely perceptible frown. "The memory of her actions rankles just as much here as I'm sure it does in your own country."

"That was a long time ago, General." Nizan apparently cared very little for the inner turmoil Gi-Luon had displayed, half-lidded eyes regarding him dully as he reclined in his chair. "If Omashu is having trouble moving on, I doubt there's much that the Fire Nation can do."

Gi-Luon hadn't expected to play on Nizan's sympathy. Rather, he'd intended to play on his pride. "On the contrary, Your Highness." He dropped his voice to a furtive murmur, folding his hands between his knees as he leaned forward. "You see, several years ago, I was informed by some certain officials in your country that there were…factions in the government."

Nizan froze, his eyes widening at the mention. "Factions?" he asked, poorly feigning a complete lack of comprehension.

"More specifically, there is a faction clandestinely named the isolationists. Do you know of these men?"

Nizan quite certainly _did _know of them, as he sat up straighter, his expression turning rigid. Still, he felt obligated to pretend he was oblivious. "Isolationists?"

"The men wanting to control the Avatar," Gi-Luon explained anyway. "The people in your government who think they can tie the Avatar to the Fire Nation and keep him there."

"I don't know—"

"Perhaps not, Your Highness, but I assure you they exist." He smiled to take off the insulting edge of his implication – that Nizan was ignorant of his own court. "I spoke with Fire Admiral Kuzon about the situation. I imagine you know _him_?"

Again, an insult, and Nizan's face turned red with anger. His father's famous temper, roiling just below the surface. "What about the isolationists?"

It was the breakthrough Gi-Luon had been looking for. Nizan was simply too proud to pretend to be uninformed about his own nation, even when he really didn't know much at all. That was fine, though. Gi-Luon knew enough for the both of them.

"Omashu is not intimidated by this plan of the isolationists to control the Avatar." Gi-Luon dropped the pretense of anxiety altogether, sitting back casually. "In fact, we would like to extend an offer of help."

Nizan eyed his sudden change in manner with suspicion. "What kind of help?"

"Any kind. Whatever you need to make the Avatar a puppet to your nation."

"And why would Omashu want to do that?" Nizan's gold eyes narrowed as he leaned his hands on his knees. "Why would you want to help us use the Avatar for our own gain?"

"Because, frankly, Omashu doesn't care if it's _you_ who control him." Gi-Luon shrugged in apathy. "Besides, by offering you our help, we would hope that it would be a sign of good faith. An…agreement, of sorts. We have no chance of securing the Avatar for ourselves – not now, at any rate – but if our ally the Fire Nation were to do such a thing…" He shrugged again, letting the suggestion hang in the air.

Nizan propped an elbow against the arm rest, slender fingers grasping his chin as he considered Gi-Luon. "So you help us to subjugate the Avatar, and all you get from it is a promise that we wouldn't use him against you?"

"Well, it's not so simple. We would want more, of course. A little more than just an alliance as compensation."

"So we've reached the heart of this meeting." Nizan's eyes lit up as if he'd finally stumbled upon Gi-Luon's manipulation. As if he could see through his lies and had uncovered exactly what Gi-Luon had fought to keep hidden. "What makes you think I would even want your help?"

Gi-Luon played right along, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Obviously, you would benefit by the Ava—"

"And how do you plan to help with that?"

"We can offer you men," he said swiftly. "Resources. Whatever you need to enact the plans that the isolationists never could bring about."

"We can do that without help, Gen—"

"Then why have you not done it yet?"

Gi-Luon fought back the urge to grin as Nizan's mouth worked silently, his young face screwed up both in offense and ignorance. The boy did not know enough about the history of his own country to answer that question, nor did he know enough to understand what Gi-Luon wanted.

"The isolationists are proud," he continued, leaning forward. "But they're also ineffective. They simply don't have the means to accomplish what they've always set out to do. I've made this offer to them in the past, and they've balked because they don't want Omashu to be involved."

"So why do you make it to me now?"

"Because I know you are a reasonable leader – a man who does not let pride interfere with his ability to see what is good for his country." Gi-Luon purposefully fed into that arrogance he'd first read in the Prince. Accordingly, Nizan swelled with the candid admission; though nothing about his posture changed, his eyes glinted more brightly than they had for most of the conversation. "And since someday you will be Fire Lord, I also know that you will honor any agreement you make with _my_ country now."

But even if he was interested, Nizan was at least shrewd. "I don't see how making an agreement with you against the will of my future subjects will earn me any favor among them."

Gi-Luon finally allowed himself a small smile. "Well, then, Your Highness, I suppose it would be best to keep such an agreement between me, you, and the midday breeze."

Exactly as he wanted. All along.


	7. Betrayals of Trust

**Chapter 6 - The First Betrayal**

* * *

—

_**Kun De Year of the Borcupine, Eighth Month**_

_**2 years later**_

—

The fire snapped quietly along the logs, throwing up sparks on occasion. These disappeared up the flue or caught on the back of the fire-case, creating a hundred brilliant stars that died just as quickly.

Kanzagan's eyes followed each one, from the moment of its birth to the moment of its death. And in his meditative mood, he considered each spark one person. One Fire Nation citizen, burning up in a mere second of his life. How poetic, he mused, that he would let his thoughts dwell on the flames tonight, and relate them back to his own people. Or perhaps how cliché. Yojing would have told him that. His old companion had not been an avid lover of prose.

He heard the door creak open, but he didn't stand. He didn't even look up, casually sipping his rice wine as his eyes continued to follow the snapping tongues of the fire. The person made no attempts to hide his entrance; the soles of his soft leather boots knocked against the marble floor before he paused to remove them. Eventually, the figure entered the firelight, and Kanzagan craned his head to gaze at him.

Nizan took a seat in the empty chair next to him, folding his legs underneath him as he did so. A good, proper gentleman. And handsome—his vibrant yellow eyes flashed with the fire, his chin sharp, strong. Everything about him was strong.

Kanzagan finally straightened in his own short-back chair, setting the rice wine on its connected table as his other hand caressed its bronze décor. Made in the Fire Nation, and just as strong as everything else made there.

"How are you, father?" Nizan asked stiffly, resting his hands on his knees. Kanzagan gave him a strained, bemused smile.

"I've had better days. But I'm glad to see you home." Nizan nodded, as if he expected such an answer. Or as if he wasn't listening at all.

"My tour ended four months ago, but I thought I would take a few extra months of training with Great Sage Himizu." It was an explanation for why he had chosen not to come home, but Kanzagan already knew. He'd tried to prevent it—had been fighting for years, in fact, to find another teacher for Nizan. But Fire Princes were trained by the Great Sages, according to tradition. And Nizan, though strong in body, had always been weak in mind.

"At least you're here now." Tall, proud. Dark in his red, princely robes. The very image of what a future Fire Lord should be.

"Father," Nizan hesitated, for the first time showing some doubt. "You've heard what I've done." For a moment, he actually sounded like his little boy. "To the Northern Water Tribe."

Kanzagan slowly nodded, picking up his drink once more. "The reports came to me yesterday. I've been waiting to hear it from you, though."

"Well," Nizan said, but didn't elaborate. They fell into a silence that stretched for far too long, broken only by the snapping logs.

"You know," Kanzagan finally spoke, his eyes once more on the fire. "We don't talk a lot about our family; I haven't taught you all the history that I should've. But I wanted to remind you of another story from a long time ago, when a head-strong Fire Prince and a young Water Tribe Princess eloped. Do you remember that story, Nizan?"

"I don't spend a lot of time dwelling on the past. While one can learn from it, he runs the risk of losing himself to it. Something that I can't afford to do."

Kanzagan humphed at the tired excuse. It was the same excuse that the Nation in general used. All because no one really wanted to remember what had happened.

"And as you know, if you don't remember the past, you are destined to repeat it." He wasn't trying to argue. Nizan knew exactly what he was talking about – quite possibly agreed. But he wanted to make sure the boy had drawn the parallel.

"Would you even like to know why I did it?" Nizan's voice sounded plaintive, even if his face did not show the emotion. A child trying to get his father's approval. Kanzagan looked at him sharply, his heart almost breaking. _Haven't I given you that and more?_

"I know why. The opportunity presented itself, and you had to take it."

"But don't you want to know why I seized the oppor—"

"I know why you did that, too." Kanzagan didn't shout in order to interrupt him. Didn't really need to. Nizan grew quiet at the sudden appearance of his father's temper. "I'm sure Himizu has told you that this is the new age. Our chance to return power to the people, where it belongs. And this is the only way to do it."

Nizan remained quiet, leading Kanzagan to the conclusion he'd come upon the correct reasoning. Though it wasn't a surprise. He knew everything his son did was now dictated by Himizu. And as he had finally solved the mystery surrounding Yojing's murder, a year ago nearly to the day, he knew exactly what Himizu had planned.

"There is only one obstacle left," he continued with his own thoughts, though he knew Nizan could easily follow. The boy looked up with curiosity as well as dread. "Hikoshu."

Slowly, Nizan nodded, unfolding his feet to the floor. "The Avatar."

"And, by default, me." This gave his son pause, his feet caught halfway between the chair and the marble. "I'm the only thing standing between you and the Avatar."

"You don't have to, father," Nizan said, again his tone turned pleading. "Just call him back. Don't stand in the way." Kanzagan glanced at his face, and saw sincere sadness there. At least his son would mourn.

Kanzagan gave a single laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "Have my guards already been dismissed?"

"Before I came into the room." So somber—but resolute. Such a strong boy.

"Are you to do it?"

"No. It would bring disaster on my reign." Kanzagan laughed again and finished off his cup. Smart boy, too. Or was that just Himizu speaking?

"Then let me have the honor of my own death. At least give me that much in the after-life."

Nizan nodded, rising slowly to his feet. "Make it clean. For the funeral." Under his words, Kanzagan could hear another message. Make it clean, so that it wouldn't hurt for very long. Or perhaps he only wanted to read such mercy in his son's voice.

Nizan walked to his side, leaned low, and kissed his forehead. It was a small gesture, but Kanzagan detected true love. His son would mourn, at least. And even as Nizan gave him a death sentence, Kanzagan forgave him. After all, his son's body was strong, but his mind—and heart—were weak.

He would have to be strong for both of them.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Himizu assumed it had been done. Nizan looked an unhealthy yellow color, his face warped somewhere between an expression of horror and nausea. He had entered with little ceremony and now paced before the shrine, irreverent of the scroll that commemorated a past Great Sage. Perhaps, Himizu thought, it would visit ill-luck on them all. But Nizan was not a Sage and would not know how to properly respect the spirits, anyway. So he allowed the young Prince to continue his pacing, merely moving the ceremonial tea bowl out of his path.

It went on like that for some time, Nizan chewing on the inside of his thumb as his dark red cloak swept in a trail behind him. Himizu even had to drop his gaze to the floor after a while; Nizan was starting to make him dizzy.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door. Himizu gave the person permission to enter, and Nizan stopped abruptly, his face turning ashen as he looked to the portal.

The entourage entered, as he had expected. Three soldiers—generals, rather. Zhen, Guo, Li-yan. Some of Kanzagan's closest advisors. Himizu studied them over his shoulder, choosing not to stand. It wouldn't matter. They were just making the formal declaration, and everyone currently in the room knew it was only a matter of ceremony. Just a matter of keeping an appropriate appearance.

"The Fire Lord Kanzagan is dead," Zhen said after clearing his throat. "Hail Fire Lord Nizan."

Silence sat on the room, the thin wisps of Himizu's incense the only movement among the five men. Then, slowly, Nizan nodded. They had already discussed this moment. Discussed the next steps to be taken.

"Great Sage Himizu," Nizan said, looking down at him. "Would you begin preparations for the funeral? General Zhen," the General gave a respectful bow at the address, "I want you to arrange for distribution of the news to the Fire Islands. Please," he hesitated, closing his eyes as if trying to remember what he needed to do, "wait to release the news until I've talked to Admiral Kuzon."

At their proper instructions, the three generals bowed once more and exited. They now had their duties. They would be in charge of letting everyone know what happened to Kanzagan. Or at least let them know the official story. The military was very good at controlling news, as Himizu had assured Nizan. As long as Zhen was in charge, they would handle the situation for him.

"This is going well," Himizu said soon after the door closed. "But we have to act fast now." Surrendering the duty of prayer, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, his knees hurting where he had sat too long in one position. "They'll spin the story that we want, but there are people very close to Kanzagan who will know the truth behind what happened."

Nizan blanched all over again and looked at his hands in horror. "They'll know what I've done."

Himizu suppressed a wave of irritation, reminding himself that the boy had just killed his own father. He had counted on there being repercussions, not just for his plans but also for the Prince emotionally. It would take some care to get Nizan beyond this.

"They'll know what Kanzagan has done," Himizu corrected, seizing Nizan's chin to draw his attention back to him. "They'll try to continue what he left unfinished. Nizan, listen," he hissed sharply, trying to make his yellow eyes focus on him. "They'll try to force the Avatar farther from us. If we want to act, we must act _now_."

Nizan nodded, pulling himself out of Himizu's hand. "I know. We'll lose our chance if we're not quick."

"Keep focused on that." He moved for his desk, set in a small recess in the chamber wall. There were various scrolls on its top, though he easily found a small, blank messenger scroll tucked behind an ink stone. "We must send a message to the Western Air Temple immediately, before one of the neutralists thinks to do the same. With the official seal of the Fire Nation," he gestured Nizan over to the desk and held the scroll flat against the lacquered wood, "the Avatar will be more likely to listen to us, anyway."

Nizan obeyed, throwing a curious look to Himizu as he took up a brush. "What about the envoy?"

"Three ships. You'll contact Admiral Kuzon, who'll in turn send someone with enough finesse to negotiate the Avatar's return. Hopefully, they'll arrive before the neutralists think of a way to counter our efforts."

Scratching out characters as Himizu talked, Nizan eagerly nodded. "Are we certain Kuzon will find others sympathetic to our cause?" He looked up at Himizu's obvious hesitation, doubt returning to his eyes. "We aren't?"

"Kuzon doesn't have the same intentions," Himizu finally admitted in careful tones. "Being an isolationist, he may have other plans. But I believe his goals are the same as ours for now." The isolationists—the group that favored a tight rein on the Avatar. They were just as eager to get Hikoshu back to the Fire Nation as Himizu was. And he knew that, given this golden opportunity, they would agree. Especially if, as hoped, the campaign he was spear-heading until now had remained clandestine.

"What should I tell Admiral Kuzon about my…?" Nizan's voice cracked on what would have been the word 'father,' and his brush paused over the paper. Then he quickly recovered, writing once more. "...about the former Fire Lord? News won't be circulated until after I inform him."

"Tell him everything you know. Which should be nothing at all." Himizu moved away from the desk, allowing him to finish up the letter on his own. Nizan knew what he needed to say. "Tell him that you've been informed of your father's passing. Mention that your father's dying wish was for the Avatar to attend his funeral."

On the wall opposite him hung a silk brocade, showing the line of the Fire Lords since the Divergence. Himizu paused before it and closely examined it as he spoke. "He'll doubt the truth of your words, but he'll see the opportunity."

Every Fire Lord, since the time of the Divergence of the Flames. When the Great Sage Sota had chosen to take on the title of Fire Lord and Supreme Ruler of the Fire Nation. Himizu followed each branch carefully, noting its strange turns and detours, how it sometimes broke and rejoined. Kanzagan's name was near the bottom – his line, too, was broken. Himizu sighed and pressed his finger to Kanzagan's name, the silk smoldering under his touch. When he pulled his hand away, there was a black mark where the name had been.

A new Divergence was coming, though he had no idea what kind it would be. But he would bring it about. The world was going to change now.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu stood with his legs bent, his body turned slightly to the side and his hands splayed in front of him as if to ward off an attack. It was a defensive stance, alert and receptive to any aggression. Yet the enemy before him stood in much the same way, the hem of her copious orange robe tucked into the cloth belt around her waist, revealing loose fitting pants below.

There was only a moment of hesitation, when they both watched each other. And then abruptly the entire scene changed. Nin-ma reached under her belt, yanking out her familiar cream-colored fans. The movement was so fast, Hikoshu didn't have time to respond. He wasn't even able to react when she swung the fans at him, a gust of wind knocking him off his feet.

He managed to twist into a back handspring, though the position was too awkward and he tumbled to the ground, rolling onto his shoulder. Hikoshu couldn't see Nin-ma, but he knew she was attacking. Quickly, he jumped again to his feet, landing low on the ground, and swung his legs, producing a blast of air that radiated outward.

But there was no Nin-ma.

It shouldn't have confused him—he should've known better. And the moment it took him to realize where she was cost him any advantage. As he jerked his head up, he only saw her delicate woven shoe slamming into his face.

Even when attacking, airbenders were delicate, and she bounced off his head as if she were jumping on a cloud. Hikoshu, on the other hand, was plowed into the ground again, hitting the pavement hard. And another blast she must've directed at the stone lifted him up and hurtled him forward.

He gave a cry of frustration as he landed once more, his shoulder taking the full impact as he attempted to roll to his knees. No time to think. He just swung his arms upward, sending a gust of wind that should have flattened Nin-ma. If she were there.

"Stop attacking and start defending!" she shouted from behind him, and he felt pain surge through his head as she cuffed him with the staff which she must've retrieved. He forced himself into a roll, coming up several feet away. "Do not try to stop me from attacking. Stop me from hitting you!"

To defend, he had to find his bearings. To find his bearings, he had to be away from her. But she was everywhere and nowhere, all at the same time. He didn't even see where the next air blast came from. One moment, he was scanning the training court for her. A moment later, he was on his back, the sky a harsh, blinding blue above him.

The sky washed out everything, and for a moment it even washed out the silhouetted shape that suddenly appeared above him. Hikoshu squinted at the approaching form, unable to register it in the split second he needed to make a counter-move. And it was probably the only reason he avoided being hit.

The silhouette became Nin-ma, her now-loose robes flying around her, her hair pulled tight against her neck in a bun. She plummeted head-first toward him, and clutched in her hands, held out in front of her and aimed squarely for his chest, was her staff.

Instinctively, he reached up, and the glider contacted his open palms with a sharp, audible snap. Nin-ma blocked out the sky above him, her brows knitted together in concentration as she started to react to this new predicament.

But it was still too slow for Hikoshu's own reaction. He felt energy well into his hands as he reflexively lashed out. Nin-ma didn't even have time to express her surprise at the sudden change. The gale that smashed into her was enough to rip her hands off the staff, and she shot back up into the air like a thrown doll.

By the time she landed gently on the pavement, Hikoshu was up and on his feet, staff gripped defensively at his side. Gracefully, Nin-ma swung her hands out in front of her, once more assuming the standard airbender stance.

"Better, Hikoshu."

In response, he threw the staff at her feet, letting out a huff. To be honest, he was inwardly surprised at himself. His initial reaction was to hit her with a blast of fire. In fact, that was what he'd felt build in his hands the moment before he launched her into the sky. Why it changed to air at the last second was a mystery to him.

"Not bad for four years of training, huh?" He was being sarcastic, but the truth of matter was hardly anything to laugh at. Four years and so little to show for it. Mastering the elements was proving to be a slow, arduous task. He was twenty-two and barely even able to threaten a nun in early training. It'd take the rest of his life to learn the other two elements.

"On the contrary." Nin-ma attempted to straighten her hair, which had come undone from its clean knot. "The point of airbending, as you know, is to defend-"

"Defend, I know," he said over her. "No fatal blows, no finishing moves, nothing to actually stop an enemy from attacking."

"Nothing ever stops an enemy from attacking," Nin-ma said, her voice suddenly turning very serious. She walked to her meditation dais and sat down, taking the time to arrange her robes around her. "There is a formal fight in the Fire Nation, is there not? A sort of duel."

"The _Agni Kai,_" Hikoshu said, moving to sit in front of her. "It's an answer to acts of dishonor—a way to settle conflict between two men." His pants rode up as he crossed his legs, and he even had to pull at his sleeves to hide his wrists. The orange and yellow training uniform was one he had received four years ago upon arriving at the Temple. Since then, he had grown a few inches.

"Or two women, I've heard on occasion," the nun continued, surprising him. Even he didn't know about a women Agni Kai. "But the point of this duel—this _Agni Kai_—is for men of the noble families to settle disputes without resorting to bloodshed. Now, what do you think the poor do? Or the fishing villages? How does a peasant settle fights?"

"Mediation, I suppose, depending on what country it is," he said, even more confused. "Laws and customs, things to keep people from acting inappropriately."

Nin-ma hesitated before speaking, and he guessed she must have realized how lost he was feeling. "Now how about you? You are outside of all countries and you fight your own battles. What if someone wishes to fight you?"

"Well, if I chose not to fight, they'd have a hard time doing so, wouldn't they?"

She sighed, glancing wearily at the sky as if to judge the time of day. "Hikoshu...the Agni Kai ends with a finishing blow. What happens if there is no finishing blow?" Ridiculous, he thought. There was always a finishing blow. That was the point of the Agni Kai. Again, she continued. "In life, there is no finishing blow. The enemy will continue to attack, because nothing stops him. No court, no council, no mediator, and certainly no referee. You must learn how to defend against an eternal attack. Because you can't stop them from attacking unless death stops them first."

Those last words hung on the air, tingeing the gentle breeze that tugged at their robes. Hikoshu started to argue but found he had no argument to present. Really, he had never considered what would happen in a real fight; all spars, both firebending and airbending, ended when someone declared it over. But if there was someone intent on defeating him out there in the world, what was he going to do? Quietly, he shut his mouth, staring at her. Her jaw was set in grim determination, and she didn't answer his silent question.

The awkward solitude was broken by a screech. Hikoshu's eyes shot up to the sky, searching quickly for the source of the noise. It was a relief just to break eye contact with Nin-ma for a moment, but in reality, there was something familiar about the sound that drew his attention away from the conversation.

There. Just as he suspected, a silhouette against the blue swooped above them. The bird was large – far larger than the squirrel-sparrows he had grown accustomed to – and its graceful tail split into two, long feathers.

"It seems the Fire Nation has an urgent message for us," Nin-ma said, and Hikoshu suddenly became aware that she had also spied the hawk. "Only they would send a bird-of-prey to do the work of a messenger."

"Am I excused then?" Perhaps he sounded a little too eager. But his stomach was starting to make embarrassing noises, which were uncomfortably loud in the quiet of the courtyard.

Nin-ma pushed herself to her feet, foregoing her usual delicate glide. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed him. "Yes, of course. But be back within the hour. The afternoon is young." He could tell her attention was no longer on him. Her eyes barely left the bird as she headed for the cloisters. Above her, the hawk had dipped around the highest spire of the Northern Sanctuary and was sweeping toward the nearby squirrel-sparrow loft.

Left alone in the yard, Hikoshu only hesitated for a moment before directing himself toward the kitchens. Nin-ma had given him a lot to think about, but seeing as he'd be back in an hour, he could think about it then. After all, contemplation was almost impossible on an empty stomach.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"So the message was from the Fire Nation?" Miyo said, her arms resting across her lap. In her left hand was a ball of rice that she had been nibbling on absently, sticky grains coming loose between her fingers.

Hikoshu barely nodded from his position against the colonnade. He idly tossed a half-eaten apple core between his hands as his gaze swept out along the hillside. In front of them, the cliff jutted upward to form a haphazard rock garden, short craggy walls of stone bordering lines of bushes and flowers the nuns had managed to grow in the poor soil. Much further out, the cliff dropped off steeply, leading to the kitchens set in a crevice below the Temple. Beyond that was the ocean, its waters a deep anonymous blue from their height.

"Do you know what it says?"

He shrugged, watching as a solitary lemur crossed the rock garden in trepidation and moved slowly toward them. The lemurs of the island were half-tamed, but they all still seemed fairly distrustful of him. Which was alright, because he was pretty sure he was still distrustful of them.

"Surely they told you something!" Miyo sounded incredulous, and he turned his gaze back to her. The nun's hair fell free around her shoulders, dancing gently in the breeze that swept through the corridor. Her orange robes were tucked up under her legs where she sat along the bench. And her expression was clouded, calculating. As if there were some mystery she needed to solve.

"Relax, Miyo, it hasn't even been an hour since the message arrived. I'm sure if it's important, I'll know." Well, he wasn't sure of that. But it didn't really concern him too much. What could the Fire Nation possibly say that would cause him to worry?

Miyo still didn't seem satisfied. She gave an aggravated huff and glanced down the corridor as if in anticipation of a messenger. The corridor was long, curving upward out of sight as it continued along the cliff face and toward the main body of the Temple. It had no walls—rather it was open to gardens on both sides, lined by benches and periodic colonnades such as the one he rested on. They were essentially ways to walk from one point to another during inclement weather. Not that they'd had inclement weather in some time.

"But the Fire Nation, Hikoshu! They haven't sent a messenger hawk in nearly a year. Don't you think that's a little strange?"

Well, yes, of course he thought that was strange. The Fire Nation had ceased trade talks with the Air Temple well over a year ago, when Omashu had assumed total control of the Strait. He supposed this message could have been another attempt to open those discussions, but without any formal excuse, a message from the Fire Nation was quite an anomaly. Still, the message was most likely for some mundane reason. Nothing to worry over.

Miyo picked at her wilting rice ball, though her thoughts were obviously elsewhere. "What if the message is for you, Hikoshu?"

The crumbling rice ball abruptly brought an idea to mind. "Hey, watch this!" Brightening, he shoved the apple core between his teeth and held his hands up above his head, palms toward the ground. Then, wriggling his fingers, he created a shower of gold sparks that floated to the earth like glittering stars.

"Hikoshu!" Miyo snapped, dropping her rice ball into her lap. "Stop that!"

He stared at her with wide, almost hurt eyes as he let his hands fall, taking the apple sullenly from his mouth. "What, you didn't like it?"

"Well, I'd like it even more if we weren't in the middle of a drought," she said with thorough irritation. "One wayward breeze, and you could have set the entire Temple on fire."

"I think I can firebend safely enough for that."

"As I was saying." She threw fistfuls of rice into the rock garden, allowing the lemur and one of its more adventuresome friends to pick at the fallen grains. "What if the Fire Nation wants you to move on to waterbending? What if they think you've been here too long?"

"How horrible," he said, tossing his apple core out into the garden. A lemur screeched in protest as it briefly took to the air. "Just think about it. I'll get to eat savory, tender meat for the first time in _four_ years."

"Hikoshu…"

"Meat that just falls off the bone. Meat that's been stewing in its own meaty juices for hours before I can sink my teeth into it."

"That's just disgusting."

He shot her a grin despite her grimace and leaned back against the colonnade. "And men. I'll see men. And not just any men, but manly men who hunt and kill things with their bare hands."

"Oh, yes, sweaty, violent men…"

"Yes! For once. And girls. Not nun-girls, either, but real girls who'll giggle and flirt with you at the slightest provocation."

"Those are the kind of girls you want?" Miyo said, suddenly bristling. Hikoshu glanced at her from behind the cloud of his daydreams, realizing then he needed to backtrack.

"Well…you know, not necessarily. But what are my prospects here? Sixteen-year-old girls who haven't yet devoted themselves to some tenet about the sanctity of life?"

The young airbender rolled her eyes, brushing off the remaining rice in her robe. "Well, we're real girls, too. Just keep that in mind."

"Whatever you say."

They lapsed into silence, both their gazes directed across the rock garden and toward the ocean. Hazy white clouds gathered on the horizon, melding with the water into an indistinct gray. Hikoshu could now barely recall ever crossing it. Nor could he really imagine crossing it again. As a child on the rocky shores of Tansasi, his world hadn't been much further than his village. Now, once more, he found himself limited to an expanse of cliffs that seemed alone on the infinite waters.

"It's the story of the Morning-crest," Miyo said abruptly, drawing a surprised look from him. For a moment, he assumed she referred to his own thoughts, which confused him even more.

"What?"

Miyo waved at the ceiling of the walkway, and Hikoshu noted that the beams directly beneath the ceiling, on both sides, bore detailed artwork that extended in either direction as far as the eye could see. He gave a perfunctory glance at the art.

"What's the story?"

"A young Air Nomad woman who loved a Water Tribesman so fiercely that she ignored customs and ran away to be with him." Her eyes glazed over as she recounted the tale, a wistful smile coming to her face. "When she arrived, he'd been killed during a hunt, and she became enraged. But an elderly Water Tribeswoman took her to his burial site, showing her a single white flower that grew on his grave. A morning-crest."

As she spoke, Hikoshu could easily follow the story, painted elegantly on the beam across from them. The white-faced Nomad, bearing her orange-robe regalia, and the dark-skinned Tribeswoman, standing before a snowy grave marked by one delicate flower. "She vowed never to marry and to dedicate her life to achieving enlightenment, when she could understand such suffering."

"Fascinating."

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I boring you?" She started to sound irate again, and Hikoshu shrugged uncomfortably at the scolding he was probably about to receive.

"Well…honestly, think about it. First of all, Water Tribesmen don't bury their dead—they have ocean funerals."

"How do you know—?"

"And flowers can't grow in snow. They'd freeze up."

Miyo was fully glaring now. "Don't you think true love can overcome _some_ physical barriers?"

Hikoshu threw up a hand in surrender. "Well, I don't know about that. But I'm sorry—I'd hardly call a story where someone dies a romance. It's just not romantic so much as it is tragic. Besides, don't you think a story where the lover dies is kind of old?"

"Of all the ignorant, self—"

They were fortunately interrupted by a blur of orange landing in the center of the garden, sending three smaller lemurs into a panic toward the two benders. They threw up their arms at the same time to avoid the beating wings of the furry animals.

"Hikoshu!" the orange blob said forcefully, and Hikoshu lowered his arms to spy Chian in the garden.

He didn't really like Chian.

She spun her glider, forcing the wing devices to slide back into place, and used the now plain wooden staff as a walking stick as she moved brusquely over the stones. Her graying hair was wild from the flight and her robes in some disarray; she had to be in some sort of hurry not to have pulled her hair back or folded her robes properly for flying.

Even before she had reached the corridor, she was glowering at Miyo. "Why aren't you at devotional?" A look of recollection and horror flashed over Miyo's face, and she quickly jumped to her feet. "Go, before I let the other Elders know where you are."

Miyo muttered a quick farewell to Hikoshu and was gone before he could respond likewise, bending the air around her to run faster up the long corridor, her robes whipping behind her. He watched her go with some regret before turning his gaze back to his new company.

Chian didn't give him any time to speak, suddenly grabbing his arm from across the bench border. "Nin-ma needs you. Right now."

Hikoshu recoiled in offense and yanked his arm from her grip. "What's wrong? Where is she?" Chian scowled at the sudden movement, reaching to take him again.

"I don't have time to explain, nor do I see why I should. Come on. She'll tell you in our study."

"Well, I'm not leaving until—"

"Don't be a fool! If it weren't important, do you think I'd be here?"

Hikoshu stared at her, his concern growing by leaps. She was right. If it weren't important, Nin-ma would have sent a younger nun or a novice. An Elder, however…there was something terribly wrong. A sense of urgency surfaced inside him, and warning bells sounded in his ears.

Chian had held out her hand again. "Come, step into the garden. You're heavy, but we can use my glider."

"What?" Hikoshu pulled back once more, this time stepping away from the woman. "Wh—no. Thank you, but I can walk."

"Nonsense. Walking will take far too long. She needs you _now_." Chian spun her glider, and once more the flying mechanisms popped out.

"I'll bend my way up there. I'm sure I can make it in time."

"This glider can handle us both, and much fa—"

"I said I'll walk!" The volume of his voice surprised them both, and all Chian could do was blink at his outburst. But before she could recover her voice, he started up the hall, part of him cowering at the thought of speaking so to a superior. He didn't want to explain to her his deathly fear of flying. No one needed to know that, least of all her.

Hikoshu aimed his hands toward the ground, splaying out his fingers. It took him a moment to focus on the air around his legs, to focus on its form—its very substance—but quickly it became something solid. And immediately, he was gliding along the corridor, both held up and propelled by air.

It looked impressive, floating as if he were a ghost, but it didn't last long. Luckily, he could keep the trick up long enough to get out of Chian's sight before it failed. He stumbled into the first pavilion as he came to a stop. Sighing in disappointment, he then took the stone path that intersected to his right and vowed once again to work on his terror of flying.

Yet he had traversed the Air Temple often enough on foot to learn the various shortcuts and secret passages that would take him to his destination. Some of the tunnels, he imagined, had not been traveled in centuries, dust thick on the ground and mold growing from the stone ceilings. They required tricks to enter, such as doors that rotated on a horizontal axis, heavier on the bottom than on the top. When Hikoshu had figured out they could move, it was a simple matter of airbending to push the counterweighted bottom half up until he could slip through underneath it.

There weren't many of them, but the few he found guided him quickly through the interior of the Temple, taking him under the stone floors of the sanctuaries and to a corridor that let out on the covered aqueduct system. Water sources were hard to maintain so high above the earth. The aqueduct system, he supposed, was built to collect rainwater and channel it to various areas of the Air Temple. Now, however, it was dry from the severe drought and he walked along it easily. In only a short amount of time, he crawled out of one of the wells and alighted in the terraced garden of the cloisters.

"There you are!" He looked up to see Byan staring down at him from the terrace. Her face was drawn anxiously, her tattooed hands gripping the stone in front of her. "Hurry! Up here!"

There were no stairs in the garden. Hikoshu quickly scanned the surrounding landscape and found nothing but the bone-dry fountain and withering tiger-rosebushes the nuns had loved so much. With a resigned sigh, he shrugged at Byan and signaled for her to move out of the way. And, focusing as much energy as he could in his leap, he jumped at the terrace.

Hikoshu would willingly admit his airbending skills were serviceable at best. Most other airbenders would have easily made it over the stone railing. He, however, smashed his shins against the balustrade and flipped over, tumbling to the ground in front of Byan. All he could do was gather his pride and push himself, painfully, to his feet.

Normally, Byan would have cracked a smile at his antics. Now, however, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the door and into the study. A moment later, he found himself in the antechamber, standing in the center of those four statues he often admired.

And almost immediately, Nin-ma swept from the separate meeting room, a wrinkled parchment clutched in her hand. Hikoshu could see the red of the Fire Seal peaking out from between her fingers, indicating it was the message she'd just received.

"Mistress Nin-ma, what—?"

"Pack your things," she said swiftly, shoving the crushed scroll into his hand. "You're leaving here tomorrow." She signaled for Byan to shut the door as she left.

"What?" All he could do was repeat himself. The revelation was too abrupt to register. "Tomorrow?"

"The Fire Nation has demanded that you come home immediately—read the letter." She gestured in agitation at the worn parchment. Then suddenly she was moving back toward the meeting room.

"I'm going back to the Fire Nation?" He was breathless, a twinge of elation sparking in his chest. He was going home, after all those years. Back to the Temples and the Sages. Back to where everything made sense, and he lived far closer to sea level. But Nin-ma shook her head as she disappeared into the other room, and he could hear her voice float past the bead curtain.

"You're going to the North Pole. As soon as possible." She emerged again, another parchment in her hand. "You are to stay far away from the Fire Nation, Hikoshu. They've betrayed you."


	8. The Library

**Chapter 7 - The Library**

* * *

"Betrayed me?" Hikoshu felt like a parrot-lizard, unable to say anything but the last word he heard. Yet he could barely wrap his mind around what she was telling him. Slowly, he lifted the crumpled parchment, pulling it loose in order to read its contents. Other than the wax seal of the Fire Nation, now broken, there was no indication who had sent it.

"Betrayed you, Hikoshu. Betrayed everyone," Nin-ma said firmly, coming to stand before him. Ignoring her, his eyes scanned the delicate calligraphy on the worn scroll.

_To the Avatar, with apologies to the Elders of the Western Air Temple, in the blessings of the Spirits of the Four Nations and toward continuing prosperity and peace,_

_It is with overwhelming sadness that the Fire Nation has bid farewell to its great Lord Kanzagan, and with equal happiness that we welcome his son Prince Nizan to the throne, in the knowledge that he will guide us true in these troubled times._

"Fire Lord Kanzagan is dead?" he said dully, glancing up at Nin-ma in confusion. The woman's face was unreadable to most, but he could see the fine lines etched around her eyes.

"We have no way to confirm it without direct communication, but we have no reason to doubt it."

Lord Kanzagan. Such a powerful man, and in the prime of his life. He wasn't like Yojing—his death was far from expected. But Hikoshu couldn't know his state of health before this, or even how he died. Nor did he know much about the Prince; he had been enlisted in the military the same year that Hikoshu found out he was the Avatar.

"Keep reading," Nin-ma pressed, touching his hand to draw his attention back to the parchment.

_It is by request of his new Lordship that the Avatar should return to the Fire Nation with haste in honor of the late Fire Lord's passing, as would be fitting of a great man. A Fire Navy escort will see to the Avatar's needs and will return him to his training after the funeral._

Hikoshu was fairly confused by the time he had finished reading. Dazedly, he looked up at Nin-ma, folding the parchment carefully between his fingers. "This was the message that just arrived?"

"No. This came four days ago," Nin-ma said, her expression grim yet determined. "Late in the night."

"But…," he shook his head, still trying to piece the information together. "It says in this letter they were sending an escort to bring me home. So they're on their way?" Then as an afterthought, "And you didn't tell me?"

Nin-ma nodded, though now her look was guarded, as if unsure how he would take it. "I didn't think this would be the best way to inform you. I thought perhaps you would rather learn from the escort, once they arrived." There was something secretive in her tone, hinting there was more to the story than she was willing to tell.

Yet she changed the subject before he could pursue it. "But their arrival is the source of our urgency. Read the second message. I received it less than an hour ago."

Hikoshu took it with some trepidation, tucking the first message behind his belt and pausing to wipe his sweating palm on his robe. The first had been a message he'd hardly hoped to ever read—a declaration that he could go home. Back to the Fire Sages, back to the Eastern Isles where he had spent half his life. And though it also said he would be leaving again, at least there would be a few days where he could pretend he was just an ordinary Sage.

The second message made his heart leap into his throat.

"This is Master Yojing's writing," he said immediately, glancing up at Nin-ma with wide eyes. He'd watched his master painstakingly transcribe so many scrolls, he could recognize his calligraphy on sight. "He wrote this? Then he's alive!"

"No, Hikoshu, I don't think so." Her tone was subdued, as if she were telling him for a second time that Yojing had died. And though it had only been for a moment Hikoshu believed the Fire Sage to be alive, it still felt like he had lost him twice. "Please. Read on."

With a heavy heart, he skimmed over the second message.

_Hikoshu._

_My dear pupil. I fear that in my years as your teacher, I have given you too many questions. I had hoped that with time would come wisdom, though time now seems so short to me. I used to ask you, what is Inevitability and what is Fate? For you, it was merely an exercise in philosophy. But I think, now, that its answer might be the most important._

_There are plans in play now that even I don't know. But what I do know is this: all that remain in the Fire Nation are questions and dark secrets. So I implore you to move on and discover your own answers. Do not haunt the past or dwell on me. My death is Fate – your role as Avatar is inevitable._

_Yojing._

He didn't feel the thick layer of sweat on his forehead, or the way his heart had wriggled its way into the base of his neck. All he could do was read Yojing's name over and over, his eyes tracing each stroke. As if he could see his master drawing it with meticulous care, his withered hands shaking slightly.

"I don't understand," Hikoshu heard himself mutter, though his heart was hardly in it. "He never could just tell me what he meant. Even in his last—" The words caught in his throat, and the parchment fluttered from his hand, forgotten.

Silently, Nin-ma floated the parchment back into her possession. "I think this was sent from the Fire Nation as a fail-safe, in the event that someone protecting you should be removed."

Hikoshu sniffed lightly, refocusing his gaze on Nin-ma as he gained a new level of determination. Yojing had known he was going to die, and had intended for him to receive this. He needed to find out why. "Master Yojing passed away years ago. Do you think…?"

"Someone else is working on his orders? Of course." The sympathy was gone from her voice, replaced by sheer pragmatism. "I also think this was the reason you weren't informed of Yojing's death until after his funeral. So that you wouldn't return home."

"Fire Lord Kanzagan had overseen his funeral. And now that Lord Kanzagan has died…"

"Now you're called back for _his_ funeral," Nin-ma finished, lowering her head such that she was gazing at him from below the furrowed blue arrow. "Someone wants you to come back. And everyone who has died up to this point has kept you away."

"Then I should go back," he said firmly, which earned an admonishing look from Nin-ma.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hikoshu. You're not only staying away from the Fire Nation, but you're going as far away as you possibly can. And that's to the North Pole."

As she was talking, Hikoshu retrieved the parchment from her hand, folding it as carefully as the first. "Mistress Nin-ma, if what you say is true, then someone may have killed Fire Lord Kanzagan to get to me, and possibly even my master. I have to find out who."

"You do a greater disservice to the world by handing yourself over to your enemy." Nin-ma took his arm as she spoke so that he couldn't leave. The motion caught his attention, and he stared at her.

"And now my entire home is my enemy?" As gently as he could, he shook her off and turned for the door. "I'm sorry, Mistress Nin-ma, but I can't blame my country for the acts of a few." Then, softly, "I'm going home."

"You have no home there anymore." Nin-ma's voice behind him was both firm and sympathetic. He ignored her, pulling open the large, heavy doors that were so often barred to him from the other side.

The iron rings, unexpectedly, ripped themselves from his hands, the wooden doors slamming shut as a gust of wind swept around him. Hikoshu started back in surprise, though anger quickly replaced it as he spun to face her.

"If I can't appeal to your sense of reason," she began, all sympathy gone from her expression, "then maybe your sense of honor. Because you do your former master a great dishonor by ignoring his wish. His _final_ wish, Avatar."

Hikoshu forced his anger in check. He knew she was right—knew that any action he took against Yojing's request would be revisited when he himself passed away. To dishonor those that had died, particularly a master, was nearly unforgivable. And with the questionable circumstance of Yojing's death, Hikoshu was hesitant to do anything that would cause his master more unrest.

With a sigh, he slumped a little, resigning himself to do as she commanded. A distant pain started behind his eyes, threatening to spread throughout his head. "So what do I do?"

"Pack your things and set your affairs straight." Easy enough—Hikoshu had barely collected anything in the last four years. Airbenders were against material wealth, and he had brought practically nothing with him when he came.

"What are you going to do? Where do I find you?"

"I have to meet with the other Elders and discuss the issue." Nin-ma wiped at her forehead, and for the first time, Hikoshu realized she was sweating. He didn't think it was entirely from the late summer heat.

She continued, as if unaware of the sheen on her brow. "I imagine some time tomorrow morning, we will have a flying bison readied for your journ—"

"Flying bison?" he said, a wave of horror passing through him like cold water. Nin-ma stared at him oddly.

"Of course, Hikoshu. How did you expect to leave here? By boat?"

He hesitated. "Why not?"

She gave a shake of her head, perhaps out of pity or sheer incredulity. "Even if we _did_ have boats, which you certainly know we don't, it's a far more dangerous way to travel."

"Mistress Nin-ma, I _can't _travel by flying bison." He knew his desperation sounded childish, and her patience was thin.

"Hikoshu, we don't have time for ridiculous phobias. You're an airbender now; airbenders aren't afraid of air."

_I'm an airbender_? The title seemed prematurely bestowed, and he felt awkward with the declaration. But before he could respond, a low hum interrupted them, vibrating the room as if a strong wind blew against it.

Nin-ma glanced at the door with some frustration, and a moment later, it creaked open. A head appeared through the crack—Hikoshu recognized immediately Khu's soft brown hair and her scrunched eyebrows.

"Nun Nin-ma, we must speak in private."

Nin-ma waved her hand, a silent command to spare the privacy and just ignore Hikoshu. Frowning, Khu gave him a cautionary look then stepped into the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

"I've just heard reports from the guides heading back from the southeast shore." Guides were nuns who provided education to the coastal villages of the Continent in exchange for food. They were constantly traveling to and from the Earth Kingdom for that reason, though Nin-ma hardly seemed to find it typical this time.

"They've already returned?"

Khu nodded with some anxiety. "There were sightings on their journey back. They saw Fire Navy ships, at least three. All headed this way."

Nin-ma's face remained still, but Hikoshu could see her blanch slightly at the news. "How far out?"

"Five hours, at most. They'll be here before evening prayer."

Nin-ma closed her eyes, as if trying to sort through the change of events. She was reorganizing her plans, and Hikoshu felt compelled to interrupt her.

"Mistress Nin-ma, perhaps if I were just to talk to them…" Khu suddenly shot him a glare that made him trail off. Nin-ma, in turn, shook her head, her eyes still closed.

"No…no risks, Hikoshu. If your well-intentioned attempts to compromise are in error, you put us all in danger." She turned her gaze up to him, looking far more determined now. "We go ahead with the plan. Start getting your affairs in order. You'll be leaving—_by flying bison_—tonight." Her expression showed that she would brook no more argument. Bowing to the two women as politely as he could, he made his way for the door.

Yojing had said in his letter that nothing remained in the Fire Nation except secrets. What kind of secrets did he mean, and why was it that even after his death, Yojing didn't want him looking into them? Why was Yojing determined to keep him far away from the only place he'd ever called home?

What had happened four years ago when his master made him leave? What was happening now?

Exiting the study, he tried to quell the frustration rising in him. He had to find answers. Somehow.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The voices of the Fire Sages reverberated on the walls of the enormous sanctuary, throwing back echoes that muddled their own origins. Hikoshu had to lean forward just to hear them, though his body was still obscured by the dark shadows of the corridor. Far below, he could make out the shapes of the audience in the firelight, the rest of the inner sanctuary only outlined in the fading dusk.

"Elder Nin-ma, Elder Byan, Elder Khu, Elder Chian, and Elder Hirana." The center man rattled their names off as if reading a list as the remaining men removed their head-gear and bowed deeply in respect. "The Fire Nation sends its warmest greetings." He seemed amused at his own pun.

Hikoshu could barely distinguish the figures of the five Elders, arranged in perfect symmetry along the raised dais that often served for leadership in prayer and meditation. In the center was Nin-ma, half-hidden in the drapings of her nun's robes. But these seemed to shine like gold in the dim torches, and her blue tattoos stood out stark against the yellow. Byan and Khu flanked her on both sides, though he could not tell them apart from that height – he only knew by experience where each one sat. On the far right was Chian, her gray hair in contrast to the other Elders' dark brown and black, and her robes a deep orange, also at odds with the yellow of the others.

"And we return the greeting with equal humility," said the young airbender on the far left. This was the youngest nun, Hirana, her black head dipping as she spoke. Of all the Elders, she'd been the kindest to him, as she had never raised her voice or glared at him his entire four years at the Temple. He wasn't sure if it was because of her age—no later than her mid-forties—or if she'd just never had that much to do with him. Perhaps it was her nature, as she addressed the Sages with equal gentility. "But at the same time, we are curious as to this late meeting."

Hikoshu thought he recognized three of those men. But from his distance, they were unremarkable blobs of red. He could tell by the headdresses in the crook of the arms of the three, all standing in the center, that they were Fire Sages. They had smooth chins except for the person speaking, and their red Sage garb had long voluminous sleeves and hems. These were ceremonial robes meant for politics; within everyday practice, they wore shorter sleeved ones that were less likely to catch fire.

He also noted the Sages were guarded on each side by two pairs of soldiers—all four of them of a relatively high rank, judging by the flash of the gold sigils on their helmets. Certainly men who could firebend. So seven firebenders in total.

Seven. That went beyond ceremony and bordered on threat.

"Forgive us," the center Sage said with deep solemnity, "but time is of the essence. As you may have been informed, our great ruler Fire Lord Kanzagan has passed away. We desire to perform the funeral rites quickly, so that he may pass on to the Spirit World peacefully. But he specifically requested upon his death that the Avatar attend, as is befitting the leader of the Avatar's homeland."

Hikoshu felt a pang at those words. It had been so long since he had seen other Sages, that their appearance alone dragged memories to the forefront of his mind. Running through the halls of the Temples, setting the komodo-rhinos free from their stables. And sadder memories, like the day they told him his father died, or the day they told him he was the Avatar.

Standing before the Elders now as they had stood before him then.

"I met Fire Lord Kanzagan once," Chian said quietly, though her voice echoed sharply against the stone. "He was a good man, unlike his father. The three nations grieve with you."

"But we feel we must ask," Byan said, the transition between the two airbenders so smooth as to seem rehearsed, "how the Fire Lord died. He was still so young."

The Fire Sage cleared his throat before he answered, the hesitation awkward. "Water settled into his chest, we believe. He had a cough for a week, and then a fever. And he died within days, despite the best efforts of our healers."

Hikoshu had heard of such wet coughs carrying off men before, and had even seen several Sages die from it. But such an illness was more common in early spring, when rain tore at the islands and soaked everything. The dry months of summer were supposedly the healthiest for all the Fire Nation people.

The sanctuary fell silent as the two parties assessed the others' intentions, and briefly, nothing could be heard but the wind slipping through the lengthy corridors and recesses of the Temple. The sound had an almost human quality to it, causing Hikoshu to believe they may have come from the stone nuns that surrounded him. Suppressing a shiver, he trained his thoughts away from the ominous silence.

Elder Nin-ma finally broke the quiet with words that he knew they were all anticipating. "We appreciate the needs of the Fire Nation. However. The Avatar must progress with his studies, and as such, we feel it is not in the best interest of any country for his training to be interrupted at this time."

Again, another pause. Hikoshu leaned even further out of the narrow alcove in order to catch the Sage's response, going so far as to almost approach the floor's edge. A quick glance downward made him retreat a few steps, his stomach growing queasy at the exposed height.

It was then that someone grabbed hold of his left shoulder, and his thoughts flew with terror to the statues on both sides.

He whirled around, right hand seizing the stranger's wrist as he raised his other hand to slam a fireball directly into the person's chest. Yet somehow, his instincts kicked in, preventing an attack that would have given away his location, and what he produced instead was a blast of heated air.

The person gasped as the temperature of the gust caught her by surprise, but it didn't knock her backward. The wind merely blew her hair away from her, at odds with the force he knew he had put into the strike.

Still holding her wrist, he tried to make out her face. But the dimly blue horizon outside the hall behind her produced an impenetrable shadow. All that he could discern was that she was a woman.

Who promptly slapped him with her free hand.

Giving a pained, muffled grunt, he pushed her forward, away from the sanctuary and into one of the many open-air corridors that encircled it. "Are you crazy? They could've heard that." He kept his voice a murmur, half expecting for it to travel anyway.

Miyo, whom he easily identified now, gave an angry snort, unimpressed by the warning. "What should you care? You'll be gone soon."

It then dawned on him that in the insanity that had followed the mid-day meeting—the frantic packing, the desperate attempts to find _any_ kind of sailing vessel—he'd forgotten to mention he was leaving to the one person it would've affected.

"Wait, how did you—" The look she gave him was far darker than the twilight seeping through the open walkway.

"Find out? Is that what you were going to ask? When the only man in the entire Temple is about to leave _forever_, it gets around," she said, her tone so bitter that he almost felt he'd been slapped again.

"I meant how did you find me?" Hikoshu said, changing his question. Best to draw her mind, if briefly, away from the fact that he had blatantly forgotten her.

"Funny you should ask, since you obviously cared if I saw you again," her voice turned derisive, and though her expression was becoming harder to see by the moment, he could tell it was best described as admonishing. "I happened to find the bison you were supposed to be leaving on—_right now_, as a matter of fact. The novice saddling him said you'd told her to wait."

Hikoshu took her by the arm, leading her down the hall in search of the bridge that would guide them away from the sanctuary and to another part of the Temple. He didn't know how much she knew, but she probably didn't need to hear the discussion currently underway in the sanctuary.

"Yes, but how did you find out I was up here? I mean, there are a dozen floors I could've been on, at a hundred different alcoves…"

"Possibly," she said, pulling her arm out of his grip. "But you only spy on us during meditation exercises from one place." He stopped abruptly and gave her a soft grin, though it was unlikely she could see it.

"Well, it has the best view."

"Hikoshu, where are you taking me?" She sounded frustrated as he held a hand to her back, pushing her forward. "And why are you dressed like that?" He glanced down self-consciously at his outfit, noting once more that he did look ridiculous.

Nin-ma had forced him to don a traditional monk's robes, such that anyone who saw him on the back of a bison might not recognize him despite his full head of hair. But they were too light to sneak around in, so he had slipped on a heavy Fire Nation cloak, the hood pulled over his head. Only a brooch held it closed in the front, so his light yellow garments peaked through as he moved.

It was hasty, but all of his possessions were currently packed away on a bison. He had to make do with what he had. Trying to explain all of that to Miyo, however, would be impossible.

"What's going on?" she pressed, her tone growing more upset. "Why are you leaving so quickly? What happened?"

He shushed her, urging her into the first hall that intersected with the corridor. It let out immediately onto a narrow stone bridge high above the Temple Proper, the stony cliffs below obscured by shadows in such a way that it seemed they were crossing an endless void. Hikoshu tried not to look down as they passed, keeping his eyes trained on Miyo.

"I'll explain everything in a moment." He wasn't sure how he was going to. It'd make less sense to her than it did to him. But the bridge ended at the Temple Library, which he knew would be empty at this time of night when there was no light to study by. They'd at least have some privacy while he attempted to tell her what was going on.

"You're taking me to the library?" she asked suddenly as she stopped in the middle of the bridge. Hikoshu reluctantly stopped with her, still refusing to look at anything but her silhouette.

"Please, let's just get there first and then I'll answer any questions."

"I'm sorry."

The apology caught him by surprise, and he stared at her, bewildered. Perhaps she couldn't make out his expression in the faint twilight, but she could read confusion in the ensuing pause.

"For slapping you. That was…that was very wrong of me. I didn't mean to hurt you." She sounded sincere, and Hikoshu looked away awkwardly before meeting her invisible gaze again.

"I deserved it." The emotional turn of the conversation was extremely uncomfortable, yet necessary. He realized that while the slap to him had been nothing but a natural extension of her anger, it was a terrible and unacceptable outburst to her. The aggression he viewed as healthy and justified was morally wrong to an Air Nomad.

So he shrugged under her eyes and mumbled, "I forgive you" in a way that made him feel rather unmanly. Still, it made her smile, which made him happy.

Until she saw something behind his head. "Who's in the library?"

Confused, Hikoshu turned to examine the structure in front of them. It wasn't far away, the large rotunda of the building blotting out emerging stars. What was more puzzling was the faint source of light coming from inside, as if from a fire. And it was moving among the large windows, cracked open to the arid night.

"I don't know," he said, suspicion temporarily replacing his anxiety. "But that's not torchlight."

"How do you know?" Miyo grasped his cloak as he moved away so to follow him.

"It's too clean. It's not _burning_ anything." Fire in all situations had a source. Something that fed it. And the source determined the kind of fire produced. Oil lamps produced a deep orange glow and an oily smoke. Torches produced an uneven yellow flame with a heavy black smoke. But this light was steady and bright gold – the result of pure energy. It was the light of a firebender.

Miyo took in a breath as if to ask another question, but he raised a hand to silence her. They were nearing the building now, the large wooden doors slightly ajar. Inside, the light continued to travel along the walls half-hidden from view, waxing or waning as it moved from one location to another.

It didn't make sense. He'd been spying on the Fire Nation men practically since their arrival. They'd been led from the two bison that brought them there directly to the sanctuary, given only enough time to dismiss a handful of Palace servants. And when he had reached his regular hiding place inside the building, every individual was still there, still accounted for. There shouldn't have been another firebender loose within the Temple.

"Hikoshu, maybe we should go find someone," Miyo said softly, the firelight catching her face just enough for him to see uncertainty written there.

"And let him get away? I want to know why he's in the library."

"But…maybe I should go look." She frowned at him pleadingly, obviously uncertain how he would take the suggestion. "I know how to airbend well enough to be quiet."

That stung. Seeing his expression, she hastily amended, "I just happen to be a little more accurate, that's all."

"I think I can handle myself," he whispered in irritation, signaling her to stand back as he edged closer to the cracked door. Miyo started to protest but obligingly held her tongue.

He knew she was referencing his inability to airbend gently. Hikoshu had her beat when it came to strength of force, but Miyo had always excelled in detail. She could bend more precisely and with far less effort.

Though she may have been justified in her assumption that she'd be quieter, it annoyed him nonetheless. He could be quiet _enough_. Trying to suppress his annoyance so that he could concentrate, he leaned into the door and pressed an eye against the crack in order to make out the contents of the room.

At first, his attention was drawn to the multitudes of shelves carved deep into the thick white walls, shadows dancing along them from the firelight. He could barely make out scrolls tucked into their recesses, perhaps thousands of them, some freshly transcribed and others falling apart. The fire covered them with a cloak of dancing shadows, obscuring them until they blended into each other. And below them, the firebender searched.

In the faint light, he could hardly recognize the figure. But he certainly recognized the clothing—a white robe draping over an underlayer of red, cinched by a red sash. The person's head was completely covered by a white cloth hat, the fabric falling around his head and neck.

It was a Fire Nation servant. Who wasn't supposed to be able to bend.

The person was standing over a large wooden table in the center of the room, perusing the documents that lay across its surface. They were some of the oldest scrolls, Hikoshu knew, patiently waiting to be transcribed by nuns when time permitted. Though his back was to Hikoshu, his expression unreadable, the man seemed interested in these in particular as he sifted through them.

The servant must have not found what he was looking for, as his gaze suddenly moved to the topmost shelves. He lifted his hand high above his head, the fire cradled in his palm flaring in order to make them out. Though it was unlikely he would reach the scrolls up there. Only airbenders could reach such shelves, either by floating or by using lifts—certain umbrella-like contraptions into which a less-graceful nun could bend air. The currents would carry them to the desired height, and then it was a matter of landing on the small, thin bamboo platforms under each shelf. As the platforms were moveable, only a little airbending was necessary to swiftly glide from one section of a shelf to another across the room. Hikoshu had never learned the nuances of it—old scrolls were not worth the overwhelming vertigo.

All thoughts of the servant's hunt were dispelled, however, when the person turned to face him, the light dancing across delicate features. _Her_ delicate features. Hikoshu's jaw dropped as he realized the servant in front of him was not only a firebender – she was a woman firebender. The incongruity of the scene nearly had him reeling. Servants weren't supposed to be able to bend, and women servants even less so. How would the Sages not know about her? Did they know?

A feather-like brush of hair against his arm almost made him jump into the room, and he jerked his head around, practically colliding with Miyo in the process. Airbenders really could be quiet; he hadn't even heard her approach. She stood next to him now, positioning her head so that she could peer into the room as well. He simply scowled and tried to push her away.

"Is that…?" she whispered into his ear, tickling him to the point of distraction.

"A firebender pretending to be a peasant," Hikoshu responded, elbowing her to get her away from his face. "Stay back, will you?"

"But it's a woman!" Her whisper turned into a partial hiss as she emphasized the word, and Hikoshu was forced to turn his attention to her.

"Yes, of course it is. What'd make you think all firebenders were men?" He wouldn't admit how it surprised him, too. "Miyo, I can't think. Could you stand ba—"

The door flew open, casting them in a light that immediately became a blaze. Blinded, Hikoshu threw out an arm to protect Miyo, trying to bring up a shield.

But protecting her was pointless. She gave a small shriek and threw up a gust of air that knocked the woman back into the room, as well as Hikoshu. Stunned, he found he was tumbling onto the floor of the library, coming to a stop against the table legs.

The room was dark now, the woman's fire extinguished during the fall. He couldn't see where the firebender landed, nor where Miyo was standing. With a grunt, he used the table to push himself to his feet, trying to untangle himself from his cloak as the outline of the former fire still burned through his vision.

Almost unconsciously, he steadied his rapid breath. Heat began to flow through his fingers in response, and he felt a surge of new energy in his chest. But more importantly, he could now hear other sounds in the room over his breathing. Miyo, he knew, would be undetectable. The firebender, on the other hand…

The stealth wasn't needed. A gentle shuffle emerged to his right, followed by the lilt of an unfamiliar feminine voice. "Who are you?"

"I'd ask the same thing," Hikoshu responded, wishing he knew Miyo's airbending trick of hiding her voice when she didn't want anyone knowing its source. "What are you doing in the library?"

The strange woman didn't answer immediately. "I don't feel at liberty to say, Avatar." Hesitating again, as if she were waiting for a response from him. "It _is_ the Avatar I'm dealing with, is it not?"

Hikoshu remained quiet as he removed his cloak, neither confirming nor denying the allegation. She knew, anyway. He was the only man at the Air Temple aside from the Sages she had arrived with. Process of elimination squarely labeled him.

"I didn't mark the Avatar for a coward," the woman said derisively. Hikoshu could easily pinpoint her in the room now, though he wasn't sure what to do. He could attack her, but he felt loath to do so until she gave him reason. "Hiding in the dark when he should be fighting like a man."

"Are we fighting? What are you doing here?"

She ignored his question. "Will you let me leave?"

"I can't do that." Not without understanding what her purpose was.

"Then we're fighting!" Her sentence was punctuated by fire, light flooding the room as flames lanced out from her foot in a wide arc along the ground. It raced across the floor and set the table legs on fire as it slipped underneath. His instincts acting faster than his mind, Hikoshu jumped up on the table, narrowly avoiding the flames that darted out below him.

Fire danced along the wooden legs, casting a bright orange glare across the room. The woman could see him now, her hat knocked off to reveal black hair neatly knotted. Before he could counter, she twisted and kicked the air, launching a massive burst of fire at him. Then she quickly followed with flaming punches as sparks flew around her. Hikoshu easily blocked the first attack, absorbing the heat and singeing the cloth of his monk's robe, but he was forced to dodge the next two, unable to recover defensively in time.

"Hikoshu, the scrolls!" Miyo shouted somewhere from behind him, and for a moment, he didn't register her sudden preoccupation—only wondered distantly why she wasn't helping him. Then, as the servant began another onslaught, he realized what she meant; the aging scrolls atop the table, some ablaze from the attacks.

So no fire. In fact, he had to stop all fire. Half-kneeling, he splayed his hands out. In response, a gust of wind slammed underneath the table, and suddenly he was in the air, balancing precariously on the edge of the table as it swung upward. There was a loud groan as the legs on the other end shifted under the awkward weight, and all the scrolls lying across the top fluttered to the ground.

The servant stared up along the length, slack-jawed at the now towering Hikoshu. But he couldn't take advantage of the distraction; though the table had come to a tentative stand-still, swaying under its unwieldy position, he felt overwhelmed by the sudden dread of falling. For a moment, nothing in the room moved, though the table and the scrolls burned around them.

Then, just as suddenly, the servant woman recovered. With a growl, she shoved both hands up toward him, a blanket of fire following her gesture. It rolled along the tabletop, racing upward to meet Hikoshu in his unstable position. Gasping, he threw his hands down, and the fire washed over him, threatening to push him off. Again, he heard a short scream from Miyo far behind him.

Overwhelmed, he tried to absorb the fire. He also threw down a blast of air—anything to stop the barrage of flames. But the attack was simply too much, throwing him off balance. Desperate, he leaned forward, forcing the table to fall toward the servant.

She gave a hoarse cry as she dove out of the way, barely missing the table as it came down where she was standing. The end on which Hikoshu was balancing slammed against the wall, and he was thrown off of it, tumbling to a stop amidst the fallen scrolls.

It took him a moment to recover, his heart hammering as he tried to catch his breath. The smoke was growing thick in the room, his opponent hidden behind a screen that even the flames had difficulty penetrating. But she apparently had no trouble finding him; a bright glow around her fists was his only warning.

Hikoshu threw himself into a roll, his former spot suddenly bursting into flames. When he came to his knees, he felt something crunch under his leg. Yanking it free, he saw that it was a lift, the orange cloth folded tight around the wood pole very much like a small umbrella.

The servant gave a loud grunt as she drew both fists upward to produce a fire blast. Quickly, he seized the lift and swung it to meet the attack. The result was a strong blast of air that blew a corridor into the smoke and knocked his opponent against the far-most shelves. Dislodged scrolls fell around her haphazardly as she slipped to the ground.

Crawling back to his feet, he tried to find Miyo through the smoke, the lift clutched in his hands. "Miyo! How do I open this?"

His attempts to find her were interrupted by a sharp, enraged cry from the firebender. The woman had recovered, amber eyes glaring from behind disheveled hair as fire danced menacingly around her fists.

Now, she launched herself at him, flames blazing from her hands. Hikoshu shrank back at the onslaught, the heat blasting his face as he fumbled with the stick. In frustration, he slammed it against the ground. And instantly, the orange colored fabric burst forth, forming a canopy.

Just in time. He plunged it in front of him, the flames glancing off it at first and then catching the hem on fire. Knowing it wouldn't hold long, he lifted the protective shield, throwing a gust into it that easily took him off the ground.

It also sent him into a spiral, and he quickly lost his bearings. Below him, the woman was now directing flames at his feet, trying to burn him out of the air. But when he looked down in order to avoid her attacks, the contraption's spin made his head spin, too, and he felt his sweaty grip slipping on the handle.

So distracted was he, he didn't even see the shelves until he crashed into them. The lift fell to the ground as he scrambled for a handhold on the white stone, and he barely managed to catch the edge of the shelf. Dangling high above the library floor, he tried to control his terror as his fingers started to slip.

The woman was now standing below him, smirking as she retrieved the lift from the ground. "I hope you can hold on until someone comes to get you." She twirled the wood gracefully between her fingers, then threw it away.

Hikoshu was barely listening. He'd never hold on long enough for any kind of rescue; already, his slick fingers were weakening and he felt his hands going slack. Nearby was one of the standing platforms, just out of reach. If he stretched, he might be able to pull it under him with his foot. But any movement sent waves of fear and nausea through him.

The height, for any airbender, was laughable. For him, it was dizzying. The sensation of _nothing_ under his feet chased rational ideas from his mind, leaving just the thought that he would fall if he tried to reach that platform. His legs hung uselessly under him as his hands ached with the strain.

"Hikoshu!" He couldn't see what Miyo did, but he heard a blast of air, and the sound of the woman's body once more slamming against the wall. With a gasp, he felt his fingers gave out, and then he fell.

Just as quickly, he was slowing down, his descent cushioned by an invisible force. When he finally hit the ground, Miyo's horrified face immediately appeared above him, her hands reaching to clasp his cheeks.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she managed through a sudden fit of coughing as her hands ran over his head. He tried to push them away, twisting in an attempt to find the servant. The glow of flames on smoke obscured everything.

"You're on fire!" Miyo exclaimed, and she dove to his legs, beating furiously at the folds of his robes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, touching her arm to draw her attention back to him. She glanced at him oddly, her brow furrowing in remorse as she covered her mouth to cough.

"Don't ask me that."

"What happ—"

She gave a strangled cry as a hand shot around her throat, dragging her backward. Hikoshu jumped to his feet, though she was already being pulled into the depths of the smoke. Throwing his arms up, he produced a burst of wind that circled around him and whipped the screen away.

They were silhouettes against the flaming table, Miyo scrabbling at the arm around her throat as the woman pressed her other hand against the young airbender's head. She was backing away slowly toward the center of the room.

"You don't want her hurt, do you?" The woman sounded terrified, as if this deviation from her original plan was now far too dangerous. Miyo made a choking sound as her feet slipped from under her, jolting them both to a sudden stop.

"Where can you go?" Hikoshu said, his throat hoarse in the smoky air. "I won't let you leave with her."

"Just stay back!" She was moving again, pulling the gasping Miyo along. "Don't come near me."

"Put her down!"

"Not until I'm out of here. You're not going to follow me." The woman suddenly shoved Miyo to the ground, and Hikoshu started forward. But the servant grabbed Miyo by the hair, and her other hand shot up to stop him. "Stay there."

He wasn't about to take any chances. Not while Miyo, grimacing in terror and from her clutched scalp, was at risk. So he obeyed the woman's command, ineffectual and useless.

The woman leaned down slowly, and it dawned on Hikoshu what she was reaching for—the ring to a wooden door in the floor that had been hidden under the table. A door that was probably never used, until this firebender had turned it to her purpose.

The woman flung open the wooden slat, though the portal and her figure were quickly becoming once more obscured in smoke. She then grabbed the coughing Miyo again by the throat and pulled her backwards. "You better leave the way you came in, Avatar."

"Not without Miyo." Of that, he was certain. He wasn't going to do anything that would let her get out of his sight. The woman may have frowned; the smoke was now hiding her features. But he saw her hand move – saw her produce something in her fist which she then blew a soft breath of flame upon. And then she heaved the small object between them.

"You should run," she said simply. A moment later, she and Miyo both disappeared down the steps of the recessed stairwell.

He could no longer see the object that she had tossed, the item having rolled to a stop somewhere along the floor. But there was a tiny flame, vague in the smoke. A small shower of sparks, meaning only one thing to him.

A bomb.

He should have run. Escaping would have been far more important than getting killed. But he wasn't going to leave Miyo there—he didn't even know where that passage led. Drawing up a breath, he shoved his hands forward to create a shield of air.

He didn't have enough time. Even before he could see the sparks again in the smoke, it exploded, and everything went white.

He expected to feel an impact, to smash against the wall as shrapnel and wood cut into his flesh. But there was nothing. His mind flew to the horrifying thought that maybe he wasn't in the library anymore. That maybe the air that surged around him as he tumbled uselessly through darkness was in fact the chasm outside.

His heart lurched into his throat. Then there really was nothing.


	9. The Avatar State

**Chapter 8 - The Avatar State**

* * *

"Don't cry," the woman hissed in her ear, causing Miyo to flinch. She felt like crying – she felt like screaming, but her throat was on fire, her strangled sobs scratching like sandstone against her chest. The firebender's sweaty hand still clasped her neck in an aching vise, and the nails of her other hand dug into Miyo's scalp.

Not only was there pain, but also terror for Hikoshu. The explosion had thrown smoke and stones down the passageway, as well as flames which the firebender might have blocked, but she didn't know. All she knew was that Hikoshu had been in that room a moment ago, and he was not following them now.

"Don't say a word and we'll get through this fine." The woman sounded almost doubtful of her promise, though she forced her forward resolutely, and Miyo tried hard not to trip on the steps. The stairwell ahead was cast in darkness, the light of the burning library only spreading so far. Miyo wasn't certain she could see anyway; stinging tears warped everything in front of her and made it difficult to proceed.

This was all her fault. She'd been too hesitant to help Hikoshu until too late, lost in her fear of hurting both the firebenders. But she could have done something. Between them, they could have easily subdued the woman. And now, because of her cowardice, because of her antipathy for conflict, Hikoshu may be hurt. Or dead.

Yet she couldn't even help herself at this very moment, when there was no one else to help her. How horrible that her training did nothing to prepare her for this. Airbending was supposed to be the ultimate defense. But she felt pathetically vulnerable, at the mercy of the half-terrified firebender.

"Why are you doing this?" If the woman was concerned about anyone hearing them, it was unfounded. Miyo could barely raise her voice beyond a hoarse murmur. Still, the woman jerked her roughly as if she had just attempted to raise a cry.

"I said keep quiet!"

"Please, let me go. You don't need me. Let me go." She just wanted to check on Hikoshu. Just to make sure he was alright. She wouldn't say a word to anyone. But it was ridiculous, she knew. The desperate woman had no plan that could feasibly work, aside from holding her hostage. Both their fates lay in question, and that scared Miyo more than anything.

The woman finally released her scalp, raising her free hand to produce a flame. The result was a bright light that illuminated the stairwell. Nuns would come looking, Miyo suddenly thought. They would investigate the explosion, and perhaps see the firebender's light. Then they would free her.

Or would they? She hadn't helped Hikoshu until compelled. What if their lack of aggression would also be her downfall? How could she trust that they would react differently than she? And if cornered, what would the firebender feel forced to do?

In that moment, Miyo had a sudden sense of self-preservation. The woman holding her wasn't sure what she was doing, and that didn't bode well for her. She had to get away, had to stop this insanity and get back to Hikoshu. It didn't matter what it took.

Miyo pressed her fist to her open palm.

A soft wind swirled up around her, not strong enough to knock either person offbalance. But it threw Miyo's shawl and long dark hair up around her head, into the face of the anxious woman.

The firebender reacted accordingly, her grip on Miyo's neck loosing as she threw her head back in order to see. It gave Miyo just enough room to yank her throat free, and she pivoted easily on her heel, whirling to face her opponent. She was aware of every air current and how it shifted around her body, folding into her hair and through her robes. The firebender had no chance to react faster than she – Miyo moved with the wind.

With her new focus, Miyo's emotions changed, too. Her fear was gone, as well as the sensation of vulnerability. Her arms floated about her, swinging to the proper stance as her feet found new positions on the steps. Light, untouchable. Free.

The blast she directed at the firebender's chest threw the woman backwards. Her body caught the edge of a step, sending her into a tumble, and she rolled back into the billowing smoke of the library.

Miyo watched her move, her hands still held out in front of her. Exhilaration filled her, fueled by a sense of freedom and accomplishment. She was a feather, durable and strong. And so light that she flew through the fingers of her captors.

Her confidence, however, began to fail her as she slowly realized the woman was not reappearing. Smoke poured through the orange portal, swallowed by the dark tunnel, but the silhouette of the firebender never showed. Her sense of strength was replaced with each passing moment by a sense of dread that she may have killed someone.

Newfound terror powered her legs as she scrambled up the steps. If there was any sound, she couldn't hear it; her heart pounded too loudly in her ears. But it only encouraged her fear that she may have done something unthinkable in her desperation.

As she emerged into the dim room, the smoke once more choked her. To her right, the half-decimated table continued to burn, its wood cracking into a pile of charcoaled splinters, creating sparks as it fell. The wall had not caught fire, but some of the scrolls on the surrounding shelves and across the floor had. It only added to the oppressive smoke, which in turn rolled out of a gaping hole that used to hold the doors of the entryway. The light of distant stars peeked through the occasional gaps in the black clouds, right where Hikoshu had been standing.

And there, not a foot from the stairwell, was the body of the woman firebender.

She didn't move, her white robes skewed across her legs and her black hair tossed loose across her cheek. Miyo couldn't see her face, the woman's head twisted away from her in an awkward angle. Her chest didn't appear to rise in the faint light.

The scene only confirmed Miyo's fears. She had killed a person. Even if it had been unintentional, the result was still the same. Despair washed over her, and she felt her stomach drop. With effort, she managed to keep from being sick, but her vision swam. What could she do now? What had she done?

She pushed herself along the stone floor, stretching to shake the arm of the young woman. Her skin was warm and tractable under the cloth, but she made no response. Pushing even further, Miyo pressed a hand to the firebender's breast, praying fervently to the spirits for a pulse. And yet nothing.

Except there. A soft beat. Or her imagination? She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on that faint thump, too weak to even pinpoint. She thought she could feel it under her fingertips, hope surging once more in her own heart.

A strong hand grasped her wrist, squeezing it painfully. Miyo's eyes flew open, only to be greeted by the fierce gaze of the firebender, her hair hanging in strands in front of her face.

"You…"

She never finished the statement. At that moment, a strong gale slammed into both of them, scouring the smoke away. Scrolls were ripped from the shelves, and the sound of rustling paper filled the air as they scattered around the room. Everything turned chaotic in the firelight, outlined harshly in a brilliant blaze one moment only to disappear in darkness as the fire was shorn by the wind. Terrified, Miyo fought her robes out of her face, and the firebender released her arm feebly as they both tried to determine the source of the sudden onslaught. It had to be the nuns finally come to the rescue. But it couldn't be. This was far too angry.

The wind beat at every aspect of the room, the air full of paper and fragmented wood. Her arms lifted protectively to her face, Miyo watched in horror as the table was finally extinguished, the stars in the windows now providing the only light.

Abruptly, they were blotted out by the silhouette of a figure. Floating. In the darkness, Miyo couldn't distinguish his identity, yet she began to doubt if he was even human. For his eyes, in contrast to the deep night, shone with an unnatural white glow as he glided into the room.

"Oh, spirits," the firebender whispered, and it suddenly came to Miyo that she knew that silhouette. She just never expected to see it floating over a chasm. Or with such an unearthly light.

"Hikoshu?" she said hesitantly, but the shadow didn't respond. His arms wove in front of him, the wind shifting to lash at them rather than the wall. The remnants of the table groaned as it started to move, scraping at the floor. Beside her, the wooden door slammed shut over the stairwell, followed by the sound of wood cracking. Concern turned once more to fear, and Miyo grabbed at the iron ring of the slat, her hair whipping about.

None of it made sense. She knew that Hikoshu was a powerful bender, but he had never done anything like _this_. He was so strong, so violent. And apparently indifferent to the damage he was causing.

Flames suddenly surged around his robes, engulfing him in a wreath of fire that didn't seem to touch him. The room burst into light, and now Miyo could make out his face. It did nothing to assuage her fears. The man before her barely resembled the man she'd grown to know and love; he was a stranger, singly-focused and terrible, his expression twisted into something inhuman. She fought back her apprehension and struggled against the wind.

An arc of flames lurched outward, curving around them both. Miyo dodge to the right to avoid them, but the flames seemed to follow, the circle slowly closing in on them. She threw a glance over to the firebender and saw her own emotions mirrored there. The firebender was in uncharted land as well. And she seemed to think this unprecedented wrath was directed mostly at her.

"Hikoshu, stop!" She didn't trust that he heard her over the roar of the wind or the hoarseness of her own throat, nor did she trust him to stop even if he did. He seemed unaware of anything outside of his driven rage. Perhaps unable to stop until the source of that anger was destroyed.

She looked over at the terrified woman, then gasped as she saw the firebender's hands moving. The woman had managed to push herself to a kneeling position and was beginning an attack. It was an invitation for suicide, Miyo knew, but she didn't know any way to stop her.

She wasn't the only one to take notice. Even before the woman could launch a strike, Hikoshu's arms lashed through the air, fire exploding from his gesture. Aimed for the woman.

Intuitively, Miyo threw herself on top of the firebender, producing a sphere of wind around them. She'd never put so much emotion into a single bending move, and the wind was stronger for it. Hikoshu's blast slammed into her shield, shaking the room as it did. The dome of air shuddered, the wind threatening to disperse. But it didn't break. Just as Miyo wouldn't.

"Hikoshu! _Stop!_" She wasn't quite sure how she did it – a twist of her body, a swerve of her hands she ordinarily didn't do – but the wind of her sphere suddenly shifted, charging squarely at his chest. He cut through it easily with a strategic block, but he didn't have a chance to stop her.

She threw her shoulder into his midsection, using air to propel herself. Under her weight, she felt his usually hard stomach sink inward, and she knew the wind had been knocked out of him. The force of the impact threw them both to the ground. Gratefully, she realized he wasn't getting back up.

Miyo pushed herself to her knees, looking frantically to Hikoshu's face. Without any fire, she could barely make out anything. But she could tell he now looked the way he should, his eyes closed and no longer glowing.

Scrolls fluttered around them as the wind quickly dissipated. The smoke was gone, and now all that remained were the hole in the wall and the ruined furniture to indicate there was any trouble at all. But Miyo remained bent over Hikoshu, whispering for him to get up.

His eyes slowly opened, strained and weary. She could read confusion there, as well as a certainty that something had gone terribly wrong. The unearthly figure was a stranger to both of them.

So focused was she on Hikoshu, Miyo didn't even remember the other firebender until light once more appeared behind them. With a gasp, she flung herself around, only to see the enraged woman raising her hands to attack again.

But the attack didn't come. A look of horror and sudden apprehension spread across firebender's face as she spied something over Miyo's shoulder, and her fists fell uselessly to her side.

"What's this?" It was the voice of a nun – Nin-ma. Miyo turned her gaze back to the entryway and saw what she had been expecting for some time. The Elder stood in the broken doorway with six other nuns, and surely more behind them. They took in the scene with expressions ranging from horrified to angry. But Miyo only felt relief. With a shuddering sigh, she collapsed on Hikoshu's heaving chest.


	10. Compromise

**Chapter 9 - Compromise**

* * *

"No more diplomacy." There was no softness in Nin-ma's voice. Her tone was made of iron, and just as cold. "No more games. You will tell me why your servant tried to kill one of our nuns _as well as_ the Avatar."

Fire Sage Kui-yan had removed his headdress, which now sat snugly under his left arm. Despite the mild night, sweat beaded along his forehead, and he wiped at it unceremoniously with his crimson sleeve.

"Obviously a grave mistake was made, Mistress Elder." Nin-ma quirked an eyebrow at the response, unimpressed.

"Indeed."

They stood at opposite ends of the room, each attempting to stare down the other from a distance. Nin-ma had decided to take the matter to the Elders' study – the commotion caused by the explosion would only invite the kind of prying she wished to avoid just now. Thus she had pulled aside the head Sage and commanded the others be held in seclusion while they talked. For the benefit of their guests, she had told them. Everyone knew how true that was.

Kui-yan spread his right hand helplessly, managing a tone used by only the most neutral of diplomats. "The woman was unstable. She deceived us into believing she was just a mere Temple servant, unfortunately with dire consequences. We can only ask you to forgive our oversight."

"That excuse is unacceptable, Master Sage."

"It is the only one the Fire Nation is willing to allow."

They lapsed into stony silence, quietly assessing each other for some small break in their invisible defenses. Politics wore at Nin-ma. Yet ever since the arrival of Hikoshu, she felt the Western Air Temple once more being shoved onto a stage.

Kui-yan must have sensed her growing fatigue, for he pressed his advantage. "In fact, I would even posit that perhaps this would be a reason for the Avatar to return home, where our men can guarantee his safety."

"Funny. So far, your _women_ seem to be the biggest threat to it." She couldn't prevent the sarcasm from seeping into her voice as she rubbed at her head. The man wasn't budging from his position, and short of calling him and subsequently his entire nation liars, possibly sparking an international dispute, she really had no recourse. "Can you at least tell me _her_ reasoning for this attack? Or why she was in our Temple's library in the first place?"

Again, the man gestured helplessly, his sleek black beard curling with his lips as he smiled. "I wish to know just as well as you. But, unfortunately, being detained, I've had little opportunity to pursue the matter. Certainly, a full inquiry will be called before the courts in our home nation."

Such a trial would only result in a nominal punishment, Nin-ma knew. The woman was acting under someone's orders, though the nun couldn't discern the purpose nor the director. The result was that she would be released without penalty. To be honest, that wasn't far from what Nin-ma wanted. She, as well as all Air Nomads, did not believe in revenge or retribution. Punishment of one did not alleviate the suffering of another. Yet releasing the young woman without determining her superior ran dangerously close to making the same mistake twice. Nin-ma felt at a standstill.

"You presume I will release this woman from our custody." She knew she was slowly losing the unspoken battle. Her words were merely empty threats now.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"She destroyed our library and injured two people. She will remain here until we understand why. If _you_," Nin-ma added quickly, spying the objection already forming on his lips, "wish to protest this, I suggest your government submit a formal complaint, at which time we will consider returning her."

Kui-yan gave an incredulous chuckle, the smile never once leaving his face. "No slight intended, but this seems rather…direct for airbenders."

"No slight intended, Master Sage, but this behavior seems rather typical for firebenders."

Despite her words to the contrary, the Sage did indeed take offense. The pleasant, if strained, expression quickly dropped, replaced by obvious irritation at the sudden dictation of the rules.

"The Fire Nation does not approve of foreign control over its citizens. I assure you I act within my government's jurisdiction when I demand her immediate return." All diplomacy was gone from his voice. Now there was only a thinly concealed threat and a glare that characterized all of his body language. "You would do well _not_ to take a stand on this issue."

The air felt like a furnace against her skin, the heat emanating from Kui-yan scouring at her face. A dim glow began around his fists, clenched closely at his sides, though he made no menacing gesture toward her.

"And you will find I do not respond quickly to intimidation, Master Sage." Just for his benefit, the heated air shifted around her, circling around her body, moving her shawl. For a moment, they stood there silently, the temperature rising as a breeze swept through the room.

"I'll remind you again, Mistress Elder," Kui-yan spoke, having to raise his voice some in order to be heard over the wind, "that debate on this topic will not bode well for relations between our nations, and so I suggest once more – for the peace you Air Nomads hold so dear – you refrain from pursuing the matter."

And just as abruptly, the wind died. Except for Nin-ma's tossed hair, it may not have occurred at all. "Fine. For the sake of peace, we'll relinquish the woman. However-" she added quickly, before he had an opportunity to gloat, "-no one else. Obviously the Avatar is at danger, and from someone from your nation. Therefore, he will be sent to the Northern Water Tribe for the next step in his training."

"Elder, I must obje—"

"And I must listen to your objection, but I can certainly promise I won't oblige." She then shifted her tone, marking a transition once more from diplomat to hostile acquaintance. "I may not willingly risk war over the freedom of a servant, but I will take my Temple to the brink of destruction for the life of the Avatar. Take that back to your Fire Lord."

There would be no argument. Stiffly, Kui-yan acknowledged this, bowing in tense politeness before he made his exit. As soon as Nin-ma heard the door click shut behind him in the anteroom, she gave a soft sigh.

"Silpa!" she called as she grabbed her staff, moving for the curtained door. "Please go accompany the venerable Sage. I have errands to run."

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Miyo's eyes were trained on the remains of the library. The nuns had arrived in time to salvage what scrolls they could, but against the starry sky, she could make out the black hole where the door once was, wispy trails of smoke still floating from it.

"Miyo…," Hikoshu's voice was quiet, as if worried about disturbing her from her reverie. Or perhaps worried about talking to her. She drew her gaze away from the building high above them, looking to her friend instead. There wasn't much to see in the dim light of the moon, his smoke-smudged face a stark pale where skin showed through. But his eyes gleamed with the bizarre copper hue she'd come to associate with him. Quite unlike that eerie white from hours earlier.

He must've read the silent shiver in her shoulders, his expression dropping. "I…I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I just—"

"Whatever, Hikoshu. It doesn't matter." She wished she could sound more convincing, perhaps even comforting. But she was exhausted, barely able to comprehend the events of the night, and terrified of what she'd feel if she did.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He sounded so regretful.

"You saved me," she said with a sigh, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. It still smelled of smoke, carrying unpleasant memories from the evening, and made her desperately want to bathe. "You may not have intended it, but you did."

Hikoshu nodded weakly, as if accepting her explanation. And they both looked away, studying the expanse of the training yard in the dim half-moon. There were nuns, even at that time of night. They gathered together in clusters of two or three, talking amongst themselves and occasionally glancing in their direction. Miyo imagined everyone was awake, and all for the same reason.

The only people missing were the Fire Nation envoy and the Elders. Where they went, she wasn't sure. But she did wonder, as they'd been abandoned in this spot with a terse, "Wait here." She could only guess what kind of trouble they were both in. Partially destroying the library was probably the least of their concerns.

As if in response to her apprehensive thoughts, the fluttering shadow of a glider slipped over them, and a breeze blew at her face as a nun landed. The wings disappeared almost immediately into the frame of the staff, but Miyo's attention was on the new arrival. Nin-ma, uncharacteristically using a glider for travel. Yet despite the rare scene she presented, the Elder seemed utterly comfortable with the staff in her hand, pausing long enough to straighten erratic brown hair before she approached them.

Miyo felt Hikoshu shift beside her, and she realized he was suffering the same onslaught of nerves that were currently attacking her stomach. In the moonlight, his mouth pulled tight and his back straightened. She could tell from his posture that he was already formulating his defense.

"Mistress Nin-ma!" Miyo said quickly, preventing what would inevitably be a foolish move on his part. "We can explain every—"

Her attempts to save face were waved away as Nin-ma came to stand in front of them, her expression unreadable. Miyo fell silent obediently, her smoke-stained shoulders hunching in sudden fear as she turned her eyes to the stones.

"I don't care what happened." Those words somehow made Miyo feel even worse. "Hikoshu." Nin-ma's tone abruptly changed, causing Miyo to look up in surprise. He did the same, equally startled by the kindness now in Nin-ma's voice. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm..." Hikoshu stuttered, glancing at Miyo uncertainly, "…um, yes. I'm fine." He brushed at the tattered hems of his burnt sleeves, as if trying to prove it. Nin-ma studied him for a moment, then rubbed at her neck, the staff tucked under her arm.

"And you, Miyo? Are you well?"

"Yes, Mistress Nin-ma."

Another pause, as Nin-ma looked them over again. Miyo could see now how exhausted she was, the often imperceptible wrinkles around her mouth and eyes deeply pronounced.

"As you both know, this incident has created…problems."

"I'm sorry, Mistre—" Miyo began again, but was halted by a glare this time. Nin-ma was obviously not in the mood for protests at the moment.

"As I said, there are now complications. The servant, I'm sure you know, was no ordinary servant." Her gaze shifted to Hikoshu, and Miyo had the impression that she was no longer included in this conversation. It was a continuation of another encounter, in which she had no part. "But she is being returned to the Fire Nation without issue."

"Wait, what?" It was Hikoshu's turn to object. "Mistress Nin-ma, forgive me, but she was looking for something in that library. Something important enough that she tried to kill us for it." There was enough blame to go around in that regard, Miyo thought bitterly as she remembered the supine firebender.

Nin-ma gazed levelly at him, unimpressed by his argument. "Do not think I make such a decision lightly, Hikoshu. I don't desire to release her without knowing her motivation. However, our tenets teach us not to seek retribution for wrongs against us. Surely, you appreciate that."

"But if you let her return home—"

"Then we maintain an already precarious peace with the Fire Nation." Nin-ma sighed, adjusting her grip on her staff. "I know you don't see this as fair, Hikoshu, but you must understand how the world works. You will have to work with it."

"The simple justice of the Avatar," an older, cracking voice said, and Miyo turned quickly to see the approach of Chian, her orange robes folded protectively around her despite the balmy night. Her face was almost a silhouette, hidden under the moonlit halo of her white hair, but Miyo knew that it had a displeased frown. Chian's expression was rarely ever happy. "He understands how the world _should_ work, and not how it actually does."

The glare Hikoshu directed at her showed his natural dislike of the woman. Every time the two were in a room together, Miyo felt nothing but silent thunder, as if the hairs on her neck reflexively stood on end. She may not have known what had caused the friction, but she understood how little they got along.

Nin-ma glanced at Chian, but her gaze returned to Hikoshu. "With this attempt on your lives, the situation has grown more serious. You will still leave here, and immediately." Miyo felt her heart sink. So he really was leaving. After that horrible night, and she'd still lose her closest friend. "But I have asked Chian to accompany you to the Northern Water Tribe, on the possibility of further complications."

It was apparent how Hikoshu felt about that, his eyes widening in horror. He looked between the two, as if assessing how likely it was that Nin-ma was playing a cruel joke. Chian merely watched him, her dark face showing little more than disapproval.

"Mistress Nin-ma, if I may!" Miyo didn't know what she was doing, nor if it would be allowed. But distress seized her for a second time that night, and she followed her gut instinct. "Please let me travel with Hikoshu to the Water Tribe."

"Miyo," Hikoshu murmured, his voice almost a question.

The look Nin-ma gave her was not reprimanding. Rather, it was almost sympathetic. "Miyo…I know how close you two have grown. But he has a far different road from you. His path leads him on to places you can't follow."

Frustration built inside her. They always talked of different destinies. Nin-ma, Hikoshu, all the nuns. Yet no one seemed to think that maybe they didn't really know _her_ destiny. Hikoshu had his life laid out for him. She, on the other hand, still had control of hers.

"Mistress Nin-ma," Miyo began, and abruptly a knot grew in her throat. The past evening rolled over her again, everything turning hazy in its wake. Once more, Miyo saw herself stand idly by as Hikoshu was nearly beaten by the firebender. She then felt the moment of intense relief when she slammed a force of wind into the woman's chest, sending her flying. The feelings she had were skewed, inappropriate for a true airbender. And the self-doubt she'd been scared to face all night sprang to her mind. Everyone had to decide their own fate. Had she already decided hers?

"I am afraid," her words were deliberate, as if she were carefully choosing them. In reality, she was fighting the tears that hovered at the corner of her eyes. "I'm afraid that I've not lived up to the standards of the Western Air Nomads. I did things tonight of which I'm ashamed, and I…I ask that you grant me permission to leave the Temple. In order to clear my heart." She _was_ afraid. The Temple was the only home she'd ever had. And though she had traveled the world, she still always came home. The self-doubt once more reared inside her, churning her stomach. Seeking support, she looked to Hikoshu. His expression was empty, but his eyes were understanding.

There was a very long, uncomfortable pause before Nin-ma answered. Chian frowned critically, drawing herself up as if to show her obvious distaste of the idea. But Nin-ma's words were quite the opposite. "I hold no power over the heart of an Air Nomad. You are free to come and go as you wish."

Nin-ma then turned, and Chian followed suit. "Arrangements are currently being made for you to leave – once more." Her last words certainly held an irritated edge. "Miyo, I suggest you pack quickly as this time, the bison will not wait." Nin-ma held the staff out to her side, and the glider snapped open, its orange wings immediately catching the breeze. But before she took to the air, she looked back at them. "The spirit of an Air Nomad is not determined by meditation and study, Miyo. I hope you come to understand that."

And then she was gone, her figure turning black against the night sky.

Chian watched her go, then snorted as she moved toward the still-gathered nuns. "Don't be late, Master Avatar." A moment later, and they were all alone once more. Awkwardly, Miyo turned to face him.

"Hikoshu, I hope—" but whatever Miyo was about to say was lost. Hikoshu had her in an enveloping hug, her head pressed against the crook of his shoulder. And without any further prompting, she felt tears slide down her cheeks. In mere seconds, she was crying, nearly inconsolable. But grateful at least that she was in the arms of someone she loved.


	11. Home

**Chapter 10 - Home**

* * *

The bison, a shaggy white creature of enormous girth and even greater height, groaned plaintively, its deep baritone reverberating through the ground. It must have resented such a rude awakening so early in the morning, when the sun hadn't even risen. Its handler, a nun covered in a heavy apron, patted its nose reassuringly before returning to the task of double-checking the saddle. Aside from her, Hikoshu was alone on the rock island.

It was in fact not a standard island, the kind of which Hikoshu was intimately familiar. Rather, it was a large rocky projection, shooting high above the cliffs and ocean, with a flattened surface that was etched with the spiraling symbol of the Air Nomads. Connected to the Temple and stables through two large stone bridges that rose above the breaking surf, it was a kind of port where bison arrived and departed. It was also an area he didn't know much about, as the small space of a mere fifty paces dropped off sharply on each side, descending into a gray-blue abyss.

Hikoshu had avoided the bison point since the day he first arrived.

Now, he was there alone, seated with folded legs as far from the edge as he could get without fear of being trampled. He had attempted to meditate, as he so often tried when feeling anxious. But his concentration was interrupted by the strong crosswinds that tore at the point, and the occasional, loud snuffles of an unhappy beast. He had quickly realized that meditation would be futile, and so had taken to checking his bags once more for forgotten items.

There was little to take with him. Everything had already been packed into two satchels, though now that his red cloak was gone, he had to rearrange the bags. Surrendering the hope of stealth, he finally settled on wearing the layman's robes of a Fire Nation citizen, which were tight and a couple inches too short from years of disuse. Most likely, he'd be given new clothes by the Water Tribe, anyway.

Again, his thoughts traveled to the new land he was about to call his home. Stories told by fellow students of a harsh, white world drifted to mind. He had only seen snow once, two years ago, when large, soft flakes had abruptly fallen from the sky. Miyo had laughed at his expression, which she described as a mixture of trepidation and delight. But the tales he'd heard of the poles were far scarier than that. The land was described as barren of all life, the ground buried in snow as high as pagodas in many places. Beasts far larger than komodo rhinos roamed it, feral and ravenous in a land that could hardly sustain them.

Naturally, he was reluctant to abandon a place he'd just learned to identify as home for that. Yet, he quickly amended as a particularly strong wind shoved at him, it would be nice to live closer to solid ground. As if agreeing, the bison gave another unhappy moan, its six massive paws shuffling in a desire to leave the isolated place.

"You're here early." The voice surprised him, but not because he didn't expect anyone. It was because he didn't expect Nin-ma, whom he easily recognized as the Elder crossing over the bridge. She didn't look much different from earlier that night, neither more rested nor more exhausted as her same yellow robes pulled in the wind. He couldn't tell if she had slept at all.

"I was already prepared to go," he said simply, retying the last satchel. Etiquette pressed at him, urging him unconsciously to stand and bow, but the wind and the nearby precipice kept him from rising. Nin-ma didn't seem to mind as she seated herself beside him, folding her robes elegantly under her knees.

"I didn't want you to leave before I spoke to you."

"About what happened last night?" He had expected the conversation, but Nin-ma had not yet ventured on the topic. Though he dreaded the questions, her lack of curiosity had baffled him.

"You must have been scared."

"No." He had to admit, there were moments of terror – moments of pure, blinding terror, actually – but what he'd felt in general wasn't fear. Just a drive, like he knew what to do and how to do it. "I was scared for Miyo."

"Do you remember how it happened?"

He knew she was asking about the Avatar State. "I was falling…I don't know where. Out of the library?" He shook his head at the vague memory, dropping his gaze to his hands. "It was dark. And I felt…overridden." Hikoshu wasn't even sure what he was saying made much sense. "I was me, but I wasn't making any decisions. I didn't want to." Everything about it was unclear. All he knew was that the Avatar State created a sense of helplessness in him. While raging with some of the greatest power in the world, he was powerless.

Beside him, Nin-ma gave a soft sigh, nearly lost in the whistle of the wind. "I told you some years ago that you wouldn't – couldn't – avoid this. It is part of you, something that you must come to accept." Her voice became gentle, almost soothing. "What you can help is how you feel. Don't let guilt consume you."

It was time to change the subject. "Mistress Nin-ma, did you know the Avatar before me?"

"Avatar Sidhari?" She sounded genuinely surprised at the question, and when he glanced at her, her expression was full of doubt, gray eyes searching the even grayer sky for a memory. "I was not yet an Elder when she died. She was…a polarizing figure."

"Not many people liked her, did they?"

Nin-ma shook her head defeatedly. "No. No, they didn't." She then returned her earnest gaze to him. "Hikoshu, she made a lot of mistakes. She made them because she was very afraid. She was afraid of what she was, what she was supposed to do. She was scared of dying and more importantly of losing the ones she loved." Hikoshu knew what Nin-ma meant; Sidhari had been scared because she had something to lose. "You must remember that. When the time comes to fight, you are the only person who can't afford to be afraid."

Hikoshu allowed the silence to settle between them, neither arguing nor agreeing. Until that night, it had been hard to imagine being so afraid that fighting was no longer an option. And even then, he knew he had to fight to protect what he loved. But now he could see that he had something in common with Sidhari.

"I know what I don't want to lose," he finally said, pushing the satchels away from him so that he could wrap his arms around his knees. "I don't want to lose my home."

More silence, as Nin-ma stared at him sidelong, pensive. He pointedly avoided her gaze, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at his admission of weakness. It was perhaps the first time he had said such a thing aloud, even to himself. And professing the fear only made it more prominent in his mind.

"What do you consider home, Hikoshu?"

He shook his head dismissively, suddenly regretting his decision to tell her. "I don't know, I haven't stayed anywhere very long. So it's kind of ridiculous. How can I lose something I've never really had?" But his thoughts strayed back to the little village of Tansasi, the fishermen gathered on the docks in the hour before dawn, carefully folding their nets as they inspected the mesh. "I thought when I was a boy I'd grow up to be like my father. Then they took me away and told me I'd be a Sage. After that, they told me I was going to be the Avatar." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Now, I don't know. Who's to say tomorrow it won't all change?"

"There is an old saying from my tribe." Nin-ma pushed her hair out of her face after an errant wind. "'The gazelk does not touch the same ground twice, but it always finds its way east.' The gazelk, much like you, does not have a permanent home. It constantly wanders, drawn by meadows or chased by fear. But no matter where it is, the sun is always there, always leading it east. It is not important that you are home, but that you can find your way there when you need to."

Hikoshu nodded, uncertain of what to say and feeling more than a little embarrassed. All of a sudden, he was seventeen again, heading out into the unknown, scared, and desperate to talk his master out of sending him away.

Nin-ma gave a weary huff, getting to her feet. "Could you keep an eye on Miyo for me? I trust she can take care of herself, but there's some disquiet in her now. And I worry that she may not know what she wants." Hikoshu nodded, though he wasn't sure how much he could protect her. Nin-ma accepted his acknowledgement, anyway, and started to leave.

"Mistress Nin-ma," he said quickly, turning where he sat. She stopped and threw a glance back at him. "I won't see you again, will I?"

"Perhaps not, Hikoshu."

"Then," he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet, his legs unsteady as blood returned to them, "I should thank you for everything you've done." He bowed deeply at the waist, pressing his fist into one hand. "Thank you, Sifu Nin-ma."

Nin-ma gave him a half-smile before returning the gesture. "Master Avatar, it has been a pleasure teaching you. You've been an amazing, if frustrating, pupil. And I know, whatever you do with your life, it will be spectacular."

Then she was gone, leaving Hikoshu alone once more with the handler, the bison, and the rising sun on a wind-swept point.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"I'm sorry," Pozhi said, causing Kui-yan to roll his eyes in a very unprofessional manner. He drew his gaze once more over the shrinking mountain ridge, the blue haze of early morning swallowing it in a thick shroud, and turned to the miserable woman.

"I see they let you out of the holding cell."

She still wore the ash-stained white uniform, wrinkled from hours of captivity, but her servant's cap was missing, large swaths of black hair fallen loose from its bun. In general, she seemed to be fine. But her countenance showed the ordeal she'd gone through in the last day, her amber eyes outlined in deep purple.

To be sure, Kui-yan was less than happy. What had been a simple, if clandestine, search of a library had nearly turned into an international incident. Hardly something that would have improved his professional status. Despite that, they seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed, if only because of the natural airbender abhorrence to fighting. Had it been the Earth Kingdom, or even any of the Water Tribes, they would not be standing on a ship heading home.

"I've shamed you. And my country." Pozhi fell to her knees in supplication, her head bending low enough to touch the wood deck. Kui-yan folded his hands and turned his gaze once more to the fading shores of the Cloudless Isles.

"Indeed, you have. But I hope that out of this mess, you produced results?"

"No, your Holiness. I didn't find the scroll."

"Didn't find it, or was it not there?"

"I didn't find it, but I don't believe it was there."

Kui-yan frowned unhappily, feeling irritation build in his stomach. Part of him wanted to lash out at the girl, punish her for the nightmare she'd nearly caused. But a Fire Sage learned to control his anger, above all else, and besides, this was why he'd been sent. He was gifted at tentative diplomatic situations. The only true misfortunes were that they didn't have the scroll or the Avatar.

Kui-yan squeezed his hand into a fist, letting the knuckles turn white before he responded. "That's fine. He didn't really expect it to be there, anyway. The Western airbenders just have the most well-preserved library, outside of…"

The desert library. Which they did not dare use for the purposes of gaining the knowledge they needed. The spirit in charge, Wan Shi Tong, would not have approved. However, it was growing more apparent to Kui-yan that his master would have to do so at some point.

Realizing that he would not finish his sentence, Pozhi continued from her humbled position on the deck, "I ask to be punished, as I so justly deserve."

He shook his head, turning back to the girl as the ship heaved on the waves. He was born to be at sea, and would've had a solid career as a captain. Had it not been for the fact he was asked to become a Sage, and then a diplomat. _There are men much smarter and more powerful than I making decisions now_.

"That is not my jurisdiction. The choice is entirely up to your master, as you know, and her Academy. Your penance will be decided by her once we return home."

Had it been Kui-yan, he would have simply left her on an island on the way home. He hated to be cold-hearted, but Pozhi had proved to be less than trustworthy. And a good captain knew better than to keep an irresponsible ship-hand. One person like that risked the entire crew.

_So who is at risk now? The nation? The world?_

"Please, return below deck and change. We might be out of range of the Air Temple, but we are still well within the range of a bison." Pozhi slowly picked herself up and shuffled backwards, her body still bent at the waist. Kui-yan waited until she was nearly at the open hatch before he added a final warning. "I _will_ tell your master, Pozhi, make no mistake of it. You may escape my ire, but you will not escape hers."

Pozhi glanced up quickly, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of terror in her eyes and the ashen hue of her skin. She ducked with sudden speed into the hatch, her head disappearing moments later. Kui-yan waited another second, listening to the fading cries of the gullicans, then turned his back on the last vestiges of land.

He would have to change, as well, before he spoke to the captain. The morning sun was warm, energizing, but already the heat bore down through the layers of crimson fabric, driving him to the point of distraction. And the salt-laden breeze did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. Yet he knew the captain would have some white mint tea already prepared in his cabin. Smiling at the thought of a cool drink and the gentle sway of the ship under him, Kui-yan banished regrets of the failed expedition from his mind and focused on enjoying the sea while he could.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The sun shone bright yellow in the east, creating long shadows as it moved higher in the sky. Miyo had her back to the dawn, her arms folded along the rim of the saddle, eyes to the dark, undefined outline of the bison on the gold waves below. To her left, somewhere nearly out of sight, the island ridge of the Western Air Temple had already begun to disappear into the horizon. She pointedly didn't watch it. As she kept repeating silently, Miyo had made the decision to leave because she couldn't stay so long as she doubted herself. Besides, she'd left many times before and had always come home. This time shouldn't be much different.

Yet, somehow, she knew it was. A glance down at Hikoshu immediately confirmed that. He lay curled up into a loose ball on the bottom of the saddle, very close to the center. His face was buried into one of his satchels, and occasionally, he emitted a low, resonant snore. She had no idea how he could manage to sleep after all they'd been through during the night, nor while he was a mile above the earth. But as well as she'd known Hikoshu in the last three years, she also knew he could sleep through anything that wasn't throwing fireballs at him.

She grinned as one particularly large snore nearly woke him up. One hand reached up to bat at his topknot as if it were the culprit, but he only succeeded in knocking more hair into his face. Miyo once more mentally labeled him as hopeless, then stood up to move around his snorting form.

Though they flew over the sea at an alarming speed, there was little wind to hinder her movement to the front. Flying bison had the remarkable ability to bend not only the air underneath them, but also the air above and around. It turned out to be a blessing for bison riders, who did not have to worry about winds beating them off the bison's back if they let go of the saddle. However, to maintain the buffering field, the bison could not fly at its fastest speed. It was a trade-off, both for the rider and the bison.

Miyo made her way to the front, reaching the neck of the bison where the driver was located. This position was now held by Chian, who had insisted on replacing the original driver with herself. Of course, that meant the original bison had to be changed, which led to an even longer delay. But delays were common if Chian ever had her way.

Miyo scolded herself as she knelt at the rim of the saddle, above and behind Chian's head. It was improper to think of an Elder that way. But as if hearing her impudent thoughts, Chian whipped around, pinning Miyo with a silent glare, and she realized suddenly that Chian had no such qualms.

"You should be sleeping," Chian said, the suggestion ruined by her scolding tone. Miyo shrunk away, deciding that her attempt at conversation was a bad idea.

"You haven't slept either. I thought you might want me to relieve you, since…" Again, a bad idea. Chian caught the implication, her glower deepening, if possible. Below them, the bison grumbled at the confrontation.

"How tired – or old – I am is not an issue. What I find absurd, however, is your presumption you could even lead my bison." The insult was vague at best, but unmistakable.

In spite of common sense, Miyo heard herself ask, "What do you mean?" knowing she didn't really want the answer. Chian gave a loud humph and turned away from her almost dismissively.

"I mean a childish nun who suffers one set-back – who has one bad night – and immediately she questions her values then runs away. How can that child presume she could lead a bison when she can't even handle her own life?" The derision in her tone was unarguable.

"I…I was almost killed last night," Miyo said, breathless, feeling as if she'd been slapped. And then anger rose in her chest. How could the Elder belittle everything she and Hikoshu had gone through? How could she be so uncaring?

Chian gave a snort, her gray head shaking. "That's right. You survived an entire night. My apologies."

Miyo fought hard to keep back her ire. Airbenders shouldn't be angry. It was a negative emotion that always led to negative consequences. But the woman in front of her seemed to have no problem with that. "Why are you here, then? If you're apathetic about what we went through in the last day, then why did you come?" It was a bold question, flying in the face of respect.

Chian turned her head just enough to stare Miyo down with one eye, silently putting her back in her place. "Thirty years ago, I had a day like yours. In fact, I had a whole month of those days. Hardly a night went by I didn't know what I'd find in the morning. So don't patronize me with what a _terrible night_ you had." She looked straight ahead again, shaking her head in disgust.

Miyo sat back, her heart sinking in guilt as she remembered some of the rarely mentioned history of the Temple. A massacre during the Ten-Year War that had nearly destroyed them. Young nuns left without any guidance or leadership. Years of picking up the pieces and trying to rebuild what they'd lost.

"Imagine being a woman not much older than you," Chian continued as she slouched over the reins, "and having the lives of a hundred novices suddenly thrust in your hands. Not because you're the smartest. Not because you're the most 'knowledgeable' or responsible. All because you're the only one who's left. A lot of pressure, don't you think?" Miyo didn't respond, her gaze remaining on her hands in her lap.

"A month of barely surviving, and I found myself in charge of everyone else's survival." Chian gave another derisive snort, as if laughing at her own immaturity. "You run away because you're scared, and you expect me to have sympathy for you. You foolish girl. I won't even give you my pity. There is none for those who refuse to face their responsibilities."

Miyo felt humiliated. As if she'd been exposed as a joke, but had been the last to know. At that moment, she would have given anything just to fall off the bison, right into the ocean.

But Chian wasn't letting her go so easily. "So you ask why I bothered to come. I came so we can avoid the same mistake the Elders made when I was a youth." She jerked her head back, indicating Miyo and Hikoshu behind her. "I'm going to make sure he faces _his_ responsibilities. And that's all I care to do."

The Elder grew silent, and Miyo realized that the chastisement was over. Swallowing, she started to crawl away – started to run just as Chian had accused her of doing. Yet she paused at that thought.

"Perhaps I'm not as brave as you, Mistress Chian. Perhaps I make a lot more mistakes. But I _am_ trying. I'm sorry."

Chian didn't even look back as she moved to Hikoshu's side. He was still curled up against his satchel, snoring softly into it. Sighing, disheartened, she lay down next to him and closed her eyes, knowing she would not sleep any time soon.


	12. The Autumn Tide Festival

**Chapter 11 - The Autumn Tide Festival**

* * *

They were on the bison for three days.

Not exactly an entire three days; Chian would stop occasionally while the eastern-most tip of Air Nomad land was still in reach – as Miyo explained, since he couldn't recognize one stretch of land from another. But she didn't stop at night, and once they passed the Moqui Strait, there was no stopping at all.

The break-neck pace made all their tempers flare. Or, rather, just Hikoshu's, as Miyo didn't seem to mind the hurry and Chian was always moody. But being stuck in the air, with nothing to look at but the center of the saddle, was bad enough. Being stuck like that for three days, without even a chance to move and dispel his natural desire to fidget, was driving him crazy.

The evening of the third day was when it turned cold. _Really_ cold. So cold, that he dug through his satchels and wished fervently that he hadn't lost his cloak back at the library. The Fire Nation had nothing suitable for winter, and he hadn't brought any of his Air Nomad clothes.

Miyo, of course, stared at him, baffled. Air Nomad robes were surprisingly warm, and on top of that, most airbenders had a nearly inherent knowledge of how to keep the air around them near body temperature. Perhaps a skill from their lives on the steppes.

He didn't have that skill. And Miyo's apparent naivety was pushing his already strained temper to a breaking point.

His frustration mounting, he pushed the satchel away and rounded on her. "How are you not cold?"

Miyo blinked, as if only now aware that was his problem and surprised it had been an issue at all. "What? Cold?"

"Firebender," Chian spat from the front, the first word she'd spoken in several hours. Hikoshu turned a glare on her as he moved to the front of the saddle, his etiquette having died away days ago.

"This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just land somewhere so I can find a coat. Or if you'd land at all."

"And add time to the journey?" Chian retorted, though she didn't turn to look at him. "As delightful as spending another day in your company would be for me, I thought you'd be happy to arrive at the North Pole sooner rather than later." There was distinct sarcasm in her voice. "Seeing how weak your poor stomach is these days."

Hikoshu continued to glare at the back of her head. He didn't need to point out that his nausea was airsickness, and that a stop or two in the endless flight could only help. She knew, and it was probably the reason she didn't stop at all.

"Hikoshu, are you cold?" Miyo asked, drawing his attention back to her. "It's not cold out here." Confusion was plainly written on her face, her tattooed brow wrinkled with uncertainty.

"He's a firebender," Chian said in explanation, which only renewed his anger. "Fire Nation men act tough, but anything cooler than a mild winter, and they fall apart."

"But it's not cold," Miyo repeated, as if she could talk Hikoshu into being warm. "We have winters much colder than this at the Temple."

"I know." Hikoshu felt bullied by the two airbenders. "But I'm not often outside on a _bison_ during the winters."

"But it's not cold."

"It's the sudden temperature drop!" Chian interjected before Hikoshu's raw nerves could be tested any further. "It feels colder than it actually is. Avatar, for the sake of my sanity, just warm yourself up."

Hikoshu was loath to do anything to save the woman's sanity, but he had to admit she had the right idea. So he rubbed at his arms, bringing heat to the surface of his skin. It only helped a little.

"We're just tired," Miyo said in a belated attempt to bring peace to the group. "We've been traveling for days, and I think we could all use a rest."

"You think you could use a rest?" Chian asked, her tone condescending. "Rosma's been the one flying. You haven't been doing anything at all."

Hikoshu's temper exploded. "Then can we please _stop_?" Miyo started at his outburst, while Chian glanced back at him with disdain.

"Rosma and I used to make this flight all the time to the Northern Air Temple. Are you suggesting that we're too old to do so again?"

"Whatever makes you land."

Chian reached forward to pet the bison, murmuring something under her breath. In response, the beast gave a rumbling groan, rattling Hikoshu as well as his stomach. Miyo watched him with a small frown as he clutched the saddle.

"Fine," Chian called back. "Rosma needs some sleep. We'll land at the next port we see."

Though she'd hardly seemed bothered by the endless trip, Miyo's expression melted into one of relief, and she leaned over the saddle as eagerly as he would've. Then they all lapsed into silence as the two airbenders searched, the deepening twilight punctuated only by the sound of their robes and Rosma's fur in the cold wind.

Eventually, Miyo sighted a town, though Chian apparently had trouble spotting the same thing. Doubtfully, she asked Miyo to come show it to her, and Miyo threw him a surprised look as she crawled to the front of the bison.

Hikoshu was equally surprised. Chian never asked for help.

Quiet set on them again, for which he was grateful. Rosma had begun his slow descent, and it took all of Hikoshu's concentration not to panic. Even though they'd landed many times before, the sensation still sent waves of terror through him, and he held tight to the saddle frame as clouds scattered around them.

When the bison finally hit the ground, jarring its occupants, Hikoshu was covered in sweat. Shaking, he scrabbled out of the saddle and fell, unceremoniously, onto grass. It took him a moment to calm himself enough to notice his surroundings, which he did on his back, staring up at the night sky.

They were apparently in a forest clearing, the tops of pine trees blotting out the stars. Rosma grumbled as Chian and Miyo both dismounted, much more gracefully, next to him.

"Perhaps you left the Temple too soon, Master Airbender," Chian muttered, moving to comfort Rosma. Miyo offered him a hand, but he waved it off and used his master airbending skills to push himself to his feet. It was rough, but he managed to do it without falling over. With a grin and a shake of her head, Miyo jumped back onto the bison, disappearing behind the saddle. A second later, her staff hurtled down at him, nearly catching him in the head.

"Go to the town, get what supplies you need," Chian instructed, her form hidden behind the massive nose of the bison. It bobbed its head and produced a loud snuffling noise, its tail thumping the ground hard. "Just don't lose your way."

"You're not coming?" Hikoshu asked as Miyo landed beside him again. One of Chian's hands appeared, waving them off.

"I've no desire to deal with Earth Kingdom people. I'm quite comfortable with sleeping out here."

"But will you be sa—?"

"She'll be fine, Hikoshu," Miyo whispered, pulling his arm hard enough to draw him away. "She's _Chian. _Who'd be crazy enough to bother her?"

He grinned at her, finally allowing her to lead him into the trees. Just being off the bison had improved his mood in bounds, and as the stiffness in his legs slowly faded, a strange weight lifted from his shoulders, too.

As an afterthought, he murmured under his breath, "You threw that stick at my head on purpose, didn't you?"

"Oh, come on, Hikoshu. It's a glider, not a stick."

Hikoshu laughed and produced a flame above his palm, the heat a wonderfully comforting feeling against his face. It also helped to dispel some of the wild, mysterious aura of the woods around them, and Miyo tucked herself under his arm to stay close to the fire as they trampled loudly through the underbrush.

Chian had landed a good distance from the village Miyo saw, and they walked for quite a while seeing nothing but whatever was in reach of Hikoshu's flame. Eventually, though, the trees thinned into a wide thoroughfare, empty this far from town. At its other end, the street was lit as bright as day, alive with noise and people, and Hikoshu threw Miyo a curious glance as he let his fire die out.

She wore a frown, though it was directed at him, her fingers plucking at the front of his robes. "You're going to stick out, coming from the forest dressed like that."

"I think I'll stick out anyway," he returned. It was true – three days on a bison with few opportunities to change meant that his Fire Nation clothes were wrinkled, dirty, and a little pungent. But there was no helping it now, and as they approached the other end of the street, the sight before them drew his mind away from any concerns over appropriate dress.

It was chaotic and brilliant, energetic despite the dark hour. People gathered in throngs, their clothes a mixture of deep emerald greens and burnt orange, light coats worn over robes that looked very foreign to him. They milled amongst each other, women, with their hair done up in elaborate braids and buns with showers of gold ribbon, laughing as they snatched at scampering children. The men looked on jovially under green-felt caps, flashing weathered grins when a new member wandered into their small groups.

Hikoshu scanned the entire scene slowly, feeling almost tiny under the multitude of glittering green lanterns that lined the street. Every storefront, though dingy and perhaps a bit worn by day, shone in dazzling color under those lights. And from their verandas, the masks of grotesque figures weaved in and out, adding an almost surreal atmosphere to the festival.

He had no idea what was going on.

"I didn't realize it was that time again," Miyo said, her tone full of surprise. He glanced at her for explanation, but she was already walking on gracefully through the crowd. Instead, he found himself watching a masked man dive at a child, shaking long orange sleeves haphazardly as he clucked like a chicken-hog. Hikoshu quickly followed Miyo.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he caught up, though he didn't know if she could hear him. The music had grown very loud, flutes and pipas floating through the rhythm of a deep drum, and all around them, men clapped and danced.

"Well, you're not going to find a cloak on the Festival of Di Chao, I think. So I'm going to look for someone who can help us."

"Di Chao?" Earth Holidays were, in fact, unfamiliar to him. He'd never traveled beyond the islands of the Fire Nation, his knowledge of the world only limited to what he'd read.

"The Tidal Festival," she said, smiling down at a boy who stumbled into the back of her legs. He looked up at her in surprise and, noticing her blue arrow with some horror, took off in the other direction. "They celebrate the coming of the autumn tide, which marks the beginning of the fish migration."

Hikoshu became aware that everyone had assumed the same trepid look as the boy, all nearby activity stopping as dozens of eyes followed them. "The autumn tide?" It hadn't even occurred to him, with the peculiar heat, how far they'd treaded into the late year. But even as she said it, he realized she was right. They were quickly approaching fall.

"I think they're looking at you," Miyo suddenly murmured. The music still played somewhere in the background, but most movement had ceased around them. Uncomfortable, Hikoshu led Miyo by the arm to the edge of the celebration, brushing past the onlookers. As soon as he had her under the veranda, he drew her up into the shadows and hopefully into anonymity.

"So they're having some kind of party?" Hikoshu asked in confusion, moving along the shade of the veranda. Miyo followed.

"It's just a yearly festival. I'm sure we can find someone who'd gladly give us a room. And some clothes," she added as an afterthought, her tone obviously suggesting he needed some. He stopped at the corner of the veranda and, rather than crossing the short alley, turned to her instead.

"So what's involved in this festival?"

Miyo frowned as she studied him curiously. "The usual things. Music, lanterns, costumes. And—"

She was interrupted by a groaning roar, the noise similar to a rockslide. Moments later, a dragon launched itself from around the corner, bursting past Hikoshu which such ferocity that he jumped back. The fanged creature, its face twisted into a grimace, continued on as if never seeing him, its blue and gold flesh writhing in the lantern light. Screams erupted from the crowd as men and women darted out of its path.

With a startled shout, he pushed Miyo away, sweeping one leg backward and lifting his fist. But before he could attack, Miyo gently cuffed the back of his head.

"It's just a costume!"

He stared at her in surprised, then took a second look at the monster. Indeed, with another glance, he could see that its horrible face was simply a painted mask, and its thousands of spindly legs had boots on the end of them. The serpent danced along lazily as the screams of the Earth citizens turned into squeals of delight.

"He's the Kiau-Li, a local serpent spirit who blesses their catch for the year," Miyo explained, pulling on his arm as the end of the dragon's tail snaked by. "They usually only bring him out during the New Year, though. I guess they needed him for the drought." She led him across the short alley and under the veranda of another building, though his eyes never left the large puppet. It growled and chased villagers along the fairway, its spines rippling behind it as if through water.

"You know a lot about this place," Hikoshu said, finally looking to her. She gave an indifferent shrug.

"I've been to these port villages before. They vary some, but most of the customs are the same." Before she had finished, his attention was already drifting back to the thoroughfare. The crowd had begun to assemble in its center, where a large, flat stage rose above their heads. The wooden platform was open on all sides, lit by two thin torches at either end. At that moment, a man disguised as a smiling demon was climbing onto it.

"Hikoshu," Miyo said sharply, bringing his gaze back to her. She didn't look too happy. "You've stopped listening to me."

"Oh…did you say something?"

She gave a sigh and shoved at his shoulder. "Just go, alright? Go watch the play, and I'll try to find the mayor or something."

"But—"

"Look, I know you want to enjoy the festival, and while I'd really like to enjoy it, too," she gave him a pleading look so that he'd understand her sincerity, "I'm going to get necessities out of the way first, alright?"

Hikoshu shifted uncomfortably. "So…I can go?"

"Yes!" She gave him another push off of the veranda and into the crowd. "Just try not to stand out until I come back."

Hikoshu stumbled against a green-hatted man, who gave him a defensive glare as he uttered an apology. But as he straightened, he realized he was easily half a head taller than the man, as well as everyone else. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so easy to blend in. His shoulders hunched, he snuck into the gathering.

Amplified by his mask, the voice of the actor grew clearer the closer he approached the stage. "Come! Join us as we present to you, the good people of Chirosan, the most tragic love story ever told!" His mask, a porcelain red-and-gold caricature of a smiling demon, seemed completely at odds with his words. His red robes swirled around him dramatically as he flung himself across the stage, gesturing grandly at the sky and then bowing deep to the stage. "The story of the Sun, the Mountain, the Moon, and the Ocean! The fateful tale of Tui and La!"

Hikoshu hid himself near the steps. It produced probably the worst view, one of the torches standing squarely in the way, but it allowed him to watch without being watched.

It also afforded him a closer look of the performers before they reached the stage. Each of the four was dressed in extravagant silk robes and wearing a mask exaggerated for the audience. The sun in its red garments hardly looked human, its bright orange face twisted into a half-snarl. In turn, the Mountain was a large, terra-cotta-faced man, his serene smile beaming coquettishly at nothing as he hobbled onto stage. Behind him, the Moon, in her blue silk robes, pulled the Ocean close behind her, his face set in a daring grin. A moment later, they were on the stage and away from him.

"Nice view," a low voice said to his right, its sarcasm unmistakable. For a second, he thought Miyo had come to taunt him, but he realized as he turned to the person that the Air Nomad's voice was far more nasal than that. The woman he saw instead was much younger than Miyo and about half a head shorter, draped in lavish green silk robes that seemed almost as extravagant as the Moon's. Her round face gazed up at the stage jovially, an ornate, oddly familiar tin headdress tied into her braided hair.

He studied her for a moment, trying to place her in his memory, then returned his eyes to the stage. "You're free to move."

"That's not the point," she responded, her voice still amicable even as it was sarcastic. "_You_ could move, too, but you don't."

That was rather forward, and he frowned at her, suddenly defensive. "I don't like crowds."

"You picked an odd place to come to, if you don't like crowds."

He was stunned momentarily speechless, and he felt his jaw must be hanging. "Forgive me, if I made a mistake and I'm not supposed to be standing here. I really just wanted to watch the play alone."

The girl didn't even bother to look at him, a tiny smile playing along her lips. "You know, I kind of wanted to be alone, too. Don't suppose we could be alone together?" She finally turned to him, pinning him with large brown eyes that crinkled with her smile.

Hikoshu felt very discomfited, both from the bizarre statement and the eerie familiarity about the girl. She couldn't have been someone he knew at the Air Temple. Nor could she have been very old when he lived in the Eastern Isles. Still, he could've sworn he'd met her before.

"Do I know you?" If she was offended by the question, she didn't show it, her smile only widening in response. The little bells on her headdress jingled as she shook her head.

"If you did, I'm sure you'd remember me."

The response was so bold-faced, he was again rendered speechless. The girl was either quite confident or quite boastful, though he suspected it was a mixture of both. Uncertain how to respond to that, he simply turned back to the stage.

The play had already started without him, the Sun having taken command of the scene, and the large spirit's body weaved across the stage in time with the music. He turned away from Hikoshu, his hand gestures briefly lost.

"The tragic tale of Tui and La," the young girl said, her low voice floating over the silent hum of the intent crowd and the distant pipa accompaniment. "Ill-fated lovers. They fought the Sun and lost their freedom." He could almost feel her gaze. "But they found each other."

"I don't like tragic love stories," he found himself saying, even though he really just wanted to ignore the girl. "They're not romantic so much as tragic. Most of the time, they involve one or more parties dying or being seriously wounded, and I can't see anything very romantic about that."

"You've obviously never died in the name of love," she said quietly, and he looked at her, startled. Her smile was sincere, though he could barely detect a hint of teasing. "It's the greatest risk – losing what you love most. And taking that risk just to save what you love most is by definition a great romance."

"Well, I suppose our definitions differ a little, then." He was starting to feel the heat of the nearby crowd. Suddenly, a coat didn't sound all that appealing. "Besides, no one dies in this tale. Everyone ends up quite happy." He waved offhandedly at the coy figure of the Moon and her dashing counterpart as they dipped along the stage.

"You know the story of the Moon and Ocean?" It was her turn to be surprised, brows arched curiously as if almost incredulous of his claim. Hikoshu wasn't sure if he shouldn't be insulted.

"I've read a lot. And if I remember correctly, it has something to do with the Sun being jealous of their love, and the Mountain hiding them away in the mortal world. I'd be more certain, though, if I could watch the play." He made sure to stress the last part. She seemed to ignore it, one delicate eyebrow still arched sharply. "Anyway, they end up together, and no one dies. Hardly tragic."

They immediately lapsed into silence, affording Hikoshu a few moments of peace for the show. The Moon was currently rejecting the Sun's approaches, her head tilted away demurely under a fan, her body twisted toward the Ocean on the edge of the stage. In the versions he'd read, the Dragon would soon come to betray the two spirits' love affair, though apparently that role had been omitted in this play.

"Of course, you're wrong," his young neighbor said abruptly, dragging him from his preoccupation. Hikoshu turned to her, for a second thinking that she referred to his train of thought. "It's pretty tragic."

"What?"

"The play. You didn't think it was tragic," she reminded him gently, tilting her head in an almost patronizing fashion. Her mouth played at a grin, and he felt both irritation and embarrassment at the gesture.

"Then do tell, what's so tragic about it?"

"Well," she motioned toward the figures above them, "for one thing, the Moon and Ocean aren't happy. They've been exiled, after all. The story ends with their reunion, but they live in complete isolation from the rest of the world. They have to keep their love hidden forever."

Hikoshu grew exasperated. "Yes, but if they're so in love, wouldn't they just be happy with each other for all eternity? Would they really need anyone else?" A man, several feet away, shushed him with an angry glare, and he shrugged in apology.

"If you were in love, wouldn't you want to tell the world?" The young girl said, lowering her voice to a murmur as she leaned in to speak to him. Hikoshu had to duck his head in order to hear her. "Wouldn't you want everyone to know what you've found?"

"Why would I care what the world thought?" He rejoined quietly, turning his face up toward her. "I'm pretty sure I'd be happy enough just to see her—" The proximity of the girl surprised him, and for a moment, he lost his words, the familiarity of her dark gaze once more tickling his mind. Quickly, he straightened and abandoned his statement. "Really, women try to make everything much sadder than it actually is."

She snorted, using a delicate hand to hide the indelicate noise. "Oh, how right you are. Romance should be left to the men."

"Might be a good start."

The angry Earth villager shushed him once more, and Hikoshu realized some people were staring.

The young girl shook her head with a bemused grin, her eyes wandering across the shining costumed actors as they gestured grandly at the air. "I'm sure whichever woman falls in love with you, Hikoshu, will be a lucky lady."

"As I'm sure whichever man you fall for will have his ear talked off."

Again, the conversation died, and they both returned their attention to the show, an air of thinly veiled frustration between them. Except now he'd lost his place in the story and couldn't clearly follow it. The Mountain had just taken his position at the center of the stage, and somewhere far to the right, the band had begun playing an upbeat, almost comical tune. He watched humorlessly as the Mountain and a trained hog-monkey danced across the boards, something plaguing the back of his mind.

When abruptly he realized what it was. With a start, he turned once more to the girl, making sure to keep his voice low. "Wait! How did you know my name?"

She looked at him, her expression baffled yet obviously amused. Before she had the chance to answer, however, a hand grabbed Hikoshu's shoulder, causing him to jump.

And nearly to jab whoever it was in the stomach. His attack was easily blocked, and he found himself staring into Miyo's gray eyes. She looked rather tired, still gripping his shoulder while her other hand held his wrist tightly.

"Hikoshu, that was just pathetic." The airbender released him and proffered a length of drab brown wool, her staff tucked under her arm. "I don't think you were even trying."

"Well, there're only so many times a man can almost hurt someone before he starts learning to pull his punches," Hikoshu said as he took the fabric from her. "Is this my new coat?"

"Yes, but wait till you see how it fits before you thank me."

As he slipped the plain brown coat over his shoulders, the red-faced Earth villager who was innocently trying to enjoy his show hissed at them in reproach. Swiftly, Miyo rounded on him, giving him a stern frown that only looked more severe under that blue arrow. The man continued to glower but said nothing else. When satisfied he was done, Miyo turned back to Hikoshu.

"Some of that airbender pacifism?" he asked, shrugging uncomfortably. Miyo lowered the same frown on him.

"Hikoshu, don't make me regret my religious vows."

"The spirits know I've done that enough times." He gave her a half grin, and a smile threatened to break her frown. But resolutely, she maintained the expression and pulled the coat tight across his chest. It had the desired effect of making him wince.

"The mayor knows you're here now, so I expect you'll have to make a speech," Miyo said under her breath, straightening the material as best she could. Hikoshu winced again, but not because of physical discomfort. "Please try not to embarrass yourself? It reflects badly on me." She was only half-joking.

"Remember the speech I gave at last New Year?"

"Yes, that's exactly the one I'm remembering." She finished her primping with a sigh and stared up at him hopelessly. "If only the spirits had blessed you with word-bending."

"Then maybe no one would notice how I'm dressed?" Hikoshu turned in order to admire how absolutely hideous the brown coat really was. It barely reached past his waist at all. Miyo gave him a chastising look as she picked lint off his shoulder.

"You shouldn't focus on vanities and material appearances."

"I'm sorry, I'll just focus on verbal pleasantries, then."

"Don't be snide. The mayor is on his way over here."

Just as she said, a man was moving in their direction, wending his way through the crowd. He seemed to be exactly what Hikoshu would've expected, a middle-aged villager who walked with an air of self-importance and dramatic concern, as if the happiness of every person in attendance rested on him. His beard was cut in what was probably fashionable locally – a thin wisp of hair framed by two even smaller tendrils hanging from his chin. Hikoshu would have said it looked silly, but his own days-old stubble probably looked far worse. He could certainly say the man was dressed better than him – his silk chartreuse robes hung practically to the ground, the gold-leaf hem bouncing over slippered feet as he walked. The man fit his part as mayor better than the actors and their respective roles. And Hikoshu couldn't fault him for taking advantage of the festivities to display his office.

"Avatar!" he cried delightedly, spared the grievances of the frustrated Earth villager by a sudden burst of applause. Hikoshu glanced up at the stage and saw the actors bowing politely; somehow he'd missed the entire play.

Miyo gave a proper bow as he approached, pressing one fist into her open palm. "Master Avatar, this is Mayor Hano. Mayor Hano, I'm pleased to present you to Avatar Hikoshu." Hano's bow was deep, his decorative gold hat nearly falling off his head. Uncertain, Hikoshu simply mimicked Miyo's gesture, and once more regretted that no one had taught him proper manners for a foreign dignitary.

"We are honored to have you here tonight, Avatar," Hano said, his words full of sincerity. But his expression as he glanced over Hikoshu's outfit was one of pure horror. He must've been sorely tempted to ask the particular reasons for such an appearance, but respectfully held his tongue. "In fact, we are quite blessed to have both of you here." Hikoshu could only assume the mayor meant Miyo, as well. "I hope you'll stay with us for the rest of the festivities. There will be food and dancing all evening long."

"I haven't really experienced the food portion of the night yet," he said regretfully with a look of longing toward the crowd. Away from the mayor's view, Miyo pinched him hard.

Hano, in turn, gave him a weak smile. "Yes, well, if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I must make an address. But afterward, I'll be sure to direct you to some of our local flavors." He then swept past, leaving Hikoshu to mouth the words _local flavors_ to Miyo with some doubt. For the first time that evening, Miyo cracked a grin.

As Hikoshu turned, he spied the mayor pausing to speak to the young girl behind him. A moment later, Hano was mounting the stage just as the actors were removing themselves from it. The girl watched him go with a pleasant smile then looked to Hikoshu. And much to his surprise, she winked at him.

"Miyo, see this girl beside me?" he whispered in a conspiratory tone, leaning toward his friend. With a preoccupied frown, she glanced not-so-subtly over his shoulder. "Do you recognize her?"

"Am I supposed to?" But at that point, the mayor had started talking, and her attention immediately left him.

"Good people, with a heart full of gratitude, I join you in welcoming the conclusion of another fruitful season for our village!" The mayor gestured almost as dramatically as the actors currently disrobing somewhere out of sight. His long sleeves brushed at the stage as he bowed, and vocal applause floated up from the crowd. Following this happy declaration, he straightened and assumed a more somber tone. "Though I know, as well as you, that this year has not been so bright as preceding years." The happy cheers faded. "Yet we have enough food to survive another harsh winter, and we have enough hope to last until the fish return. This causes me happiness, and on the night of the Tidal Festival, I give thanks to the Ocean and the Autumn Moon for what they have provided all year."

The cheers started up again, but Hikoshu's interest had already waned. It wasn't that he didn't care for their plight – he remembered enough hungry seasons in his former port town home, as well as the festivals that accompanied them. But he wasn't very good with speeches, neither in giving them nor in listening to them. Too often, he was distracted by just about anything that provided more stimulus.

Currently, that 'anything' included the faces of those who listened more intently than he. As their attentions were fully devoted to their leader, the villagers now stood in one place, making them easier to observe. Most of them were women, the men gathering on the outskirts of the audience as if suddenly caring about the stage. Children were nowhere to be seen – he suspected that there was too much food and dance to be had for them to listen to a boring speech. As if in response, he heard the loud, familiar pop of a firecracker some place beyond the crowd.

What he didn't hear was the band, which had respectfully ceased playing for the mayor. He could see the musicians now, tucked under an eave on the other side of the stage, their instruments held idly at their sides. Like everyone else, they were dressed in vivid greens and gold. It seemed an odd combination of colors for such an event – the Sun, to him, was gold. And this was obviously not a ceremony for the Sun.

"…we do have an honored guest tonight." The mayor's words filtered through his mind, and Hikoshu jerked his eyes warily back to the stage. "Someone who has traveled far, and had just enough time to enjoy the festival with us. Really, we are quite lucky to be honored by such a person – a bright light in these troubled times." Hikoshu's stomach squirmed unpleasantly, just as it did before any public speech he made. More so this time, though, as the nuns were used to his embarrassing antics. These people weren't. Throwing a quick, unhappy look to Miyo, he prepared to mount the steps.

"May I present to you Yan-lin, daughter of General Gi-Luon of the Western Mountain Front, consul and delegate to the Northwest Territories under the grace of King Du Gong of Omashu!"

By the time Mayor Hano had finished the lengthy introduction, Hikoshu had already realized that the man was not speaking about him, and had backed away as his younger confidant moved up the stairs, a half-amused grin on her face. He looked uncertainly at Miyo, who shrugged at him with a similar smirk. Sighing, he retired to his original spot, his anxiety replaced by embarrassment.

"At least you know who she is now," Miyo murmured under her breath as he approached, eyeing him slyly. He began to form a retort, but cut off at an abrupt thought. In fact, the name did sound familiar. He had met General Gi-Luon once years ago. And his daughter had accompanied him.

That's who she was.

The dusky, youthful features of the girl now took on a new shape as she bowed eloquently to the mayor and then to the crowd. If he squinted a bit, even in the green jade lanterns, he could see the same unique child who'd spoken to him only briefly three years before. She looked much older now, a little bit taller, and apparently holding a lot more authority. With one slender hand, she ended the polite applause of the crowd.

"I thank you for your kindness, both from Honorable Mayor Hano and from this wonderful town." She almost seemed comfortable on the stage, long silk sleeves swinging as she gestured toward the appropriate community leaders who must be acknowledged. "His Holiness Master Cleric Jongsu, Distinguished Captain Luo of the Home Guard, and, of course, the Venerated Town Eldermen – all of you, I thank for the hospitality you have shown me." Every name was answered with applause. Hikoshu's attention, however, had begun to slip away again, his singular focus on how the girl above him had changed over the years.

"I arrived in Chirosan three days ago, just in time to enjoy the Tidal Festival of which this town entertains such great fame. And I hope I may candidly admit that the women of your village make the sweetest moon cakes in the whole of the territory." Chuckles and cheers at the positive recommendation. "But I don't believe I've been called upon to declare what you, dear countrymen, already know to be true. In fact, I suspect that your esteemed Mayor has decided to bestow upon me the honor – and truly it is quite an honor – of introducing someone far more exceptional than I. A person who is indeed a legend, destined to bring about the peace for which we so desperately yearn. My dear people, may I surrender the stage reverently to His Eminence, the Fire Avatar Hikoshu, successor to the Earth Avatar Sidhari, successor to the Water Avatar Kwandek."

The awed surprise of the crowd was mirrored halfheartedly by Hikoshu, who stared up at the stage with some horror. Despite mild disappointment, he'd honestly thought he'd narrowly escaped the impending disaster that his public appearance would be. Once more, however, his stomach churned.

But the girl – Yan-lin – was already bent low at the waist, moving from the center of the stage in deference. A look to Miyo was fruitless. She was also bowing, though her broad smirk spoke volumes. Slowly, he mounted the steps, pulling at the sleeves of his old brown coat.

Luckily, no one saw him at first. They were spread out along the perimeter of the stage on all sides, every face turned toward the ground in a mass genuflection. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and tried to assume his most august posture, folding his hands serenely before him.

He didn't need to see their faces fall – he could hear the collective gasp of dismay across the crowd as they rose. Shooting a clandestine look at Miyo, he coughed once more and airbended his voice into a projected shout.

"In turn, I would like to thank the dignified diplomat Yan-lin for her kind introduction," he said, bowing his shoulders politely to her. She returned the gesture. "And of course, the Honorable Mayor Hano for allowing me to experience these festivities with you. And his Holiness…Master Cleric…" Try as he might, he couldn't dredge up the name of the cleric, and he cursed himself for not paying closer attention. "Master Cleric, the Distinguished Captain, and others of great dignity and virtue who have allowed _all_ of us to enjoy…these festivities."

There weren't claps following his introductions. Just very puzzled silence. He imagined they had expected a handsome man riding in a sedan of flames, his beaming visage flashing a grin, and leaving a charmed message for those honored enough to hear it. But what they had was him. Dark. Dirty. Scruffy. And bearing a particular odor redolent of bison sweat.

How painful the truth.

"I do not wish to keep you further with boring speeches—" even as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Implying that his hosts may have been making boring speeches themselves. "My own boring speeches, that is. As I'm quite honestly a boring person." Self-effacing. That had to be good. "And so I ask you all to return to your merriment and enjoy this holiday of the…" What holiday was it? Someone had said something about fish migrating. Or was it tides? "…tides. Holiday of tides."

He was prepared to dart off the stage, no matter what ceremony demanded. But Yan-lin grasped his arm, bowing her head.

"Master Avatar is humble. However, I must ask on behalf of these kind people that you may entertain our curiosities. You see," from his height, he could only see the top of her jangling headdress, though her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, "the people of Chirosan enjoy the simple delights of fireworks. Unfortunately, Fire Sages do not travel frequently through this area and they've not seen fireworks in quite some time. So, please, if you would do us the honor of showing what a truly great firebender you are, it would certainly make this quite a memorable Autumn Tide Festival." Ah, _now_ he remembered the name.

There were only two things that Hikoshu excelled at. Well, three, including his unrivaled mastery of Pai-Sho offensive strategy. But primarily two: getting out of airbending practice, and firebending. Seeing as political rhetoric was not among his skills, he was quick to oblige Yan-lin's request. If he couldn't impress anyone with his presence, he could certainly impress them with some amazing fire displays.

The young woman's words had renewed the crowd's interest, and trepid cheers urged him on. Though the response was at best anxious, it was still enough encouragement for him, and Hikoshu moved back toward the center of the stage. Yan-lin gave him a delighted smile and once more stepped into the background.

"Hikoshu," Miyo said in a warning voice somewhere below him, and he dropped his gaze to her at the bottom of the stage. She looked up at him sternly from beyond its edge. "Remember there's a drought."

She was telling him to be mindful of the flames. The request was reasonable, yet he felt slightly offended. Of course, he would be careful. Fire was difficult to keep under control, but he was the most powerful firebender in nearly five centuries – had been such since he was almost sixteen.

He gave a sharp nod to acknowledge the request, then returned to his stance. The crowd stood with bated breath, waiting for his next move. He paused a second more, ordered in a loud, firm voice, "Everyone, stand back!" Then gave them a performance of a lifetime.


	13. The Diplomat

**Chapter 12 - The Diplomat**

* * *

The home of Earth Cleric Jongsu was nothing compared to the Eastern Isles with its lavish architecture and grand statues. Nor could it even compare to the Western Air Temple in grace and humility. In fact, it simply looked like a very modest home.

Hikoshu supposed the temple shrine connected opposite the courtyard was quite a bit more elegantly decorated, but the cleric had begged them to hold off on a tour until the morning. Instead, he treated them to tea in the main hall, which itself was a term of moderate exaggeration. The main hall was nothing more than a dimly lit dining area, one massive table dominating the room. They were now seated around it in high-backed chairs, four people where the table easily sat eight. Still, the room was small enough that the number of occupants seemed more than comfortable.

"It is quite lovely," Jongsu's wife was saying, her thin face stretched even thinner by the tight buns holding her hair back. She clasped her sleeve eloquently as she poured more tea for Miyo, then circled around the table to resume her position next to her husband. He admired her proudly, his short conical hat bobbing on his head as he nodded. "An Avatar centuries ago even commented on its beauty." They must be talking about the temple, though Hikoshu would have doubted it was centuries old.

"It's been in our family for generations," Jongsu explained matter-of-factly, squeezing his wife's hand as she took her seat. "We have a long history of honoring the neighboring spirits and have developed a rapport with them, of sorts."

Except maybe the rain spirits, Hikoshu thought, though he smiled graciously. "The drought must be hard on you." Jongsu nodded, the light of the green crystal lamps catching his somber frown.

"Nor does it help they are drafting our men in the provincial military. The terraces are empty as the women work the docks alongside their husbands. Even our own son is no longer here to help me tend to ritual." The cleric gave his wife a sad smile, and she patted his hand gently, reassuring. Hikoshu shifted uncomfortably at witnessing the very private moment between the two. He'd grown up almost entirely in a chaste world – Air Nuns never married, and Fire Sages could only marry after many years of study. And while he wasn't naïve to love, observing the intimacy of another person, particularly a man of religion, was strange.

"You said the young men of the village are being called into service?" Miyo asked, her eyebrows arched as she sipped appreciatively at her tea. "Why is the Earth Kingdom military mobilizing?" The older couple looked at her wide-eyed, as if shocked she knew nothing about it. But it was first that Hikoshu had heard of it, too.

"They aren't mobilizing," a voice said behind them, and Hikoshu turned to see Yan-lin standing in front of the wood latticework of the moon door. A servant was at her side, her face drawn in anxiety. "There have been skirmishes on the western front with Ba Sing Se, which unfortunately places demands on the Northwest Territory for voluntary conscription." She moved into the room with an apologetic smile, silk robes shifting around her like water. "Please forgive me, Master Jongsu. I asked your dear servant Sun to show me in without introduction, as I'm running late."

"Not at all, Mistress Yan-lin," Jongsu said courteously, waving a hand so that she'd take a seat. "Have you been introduced to the Avatar and his companion, Air Nun Miyo?"

"Roundabout," she answered, bowing politely to both of them. Hikoshu got to his feet in order to return the greeting, though Miyo remained seated, simply bowing her head. A moment later, Yan-lin was in the chair next to Hikoshu, declining tea with a smile.

"What do you mean, 'skirmishes?'" Miyo asked as she bent past Hikoshu to catch her gaze. Yan-lin regarded her carefully.

"I'm surprised an Air Nomad doesn't know of current events," she said, and Hikoshu could almost feel Miyo's hackles rise next to him. Air Nomads were not easily insulted, but to imply that one was ignorant of the world was rather offensive. And while most Air Nomads would forego wounded pride, Miyo was – as often was the case – an exception.

"If you would care to explain to me," he said quickly, interrupting the sudden tension, and gave Yan-lin a lopsided smile. "I'm afraid I've had little time in my training to keep abreast of the Earth Kingdom's activities."

"Of course, Avatar." She scooted her chair closer to the table. "As you may know, Omashu and Ba Sing Se have had border disputes in the past, primarily north of the Si Wong Desert." Hikoshu knew a little bit about it. The Earth Kingdom was a misnomer – in reality, it was composed of various polities, of which Omashu and Ba Sing Se were the largest. And often, they became immersed in territorial disputes involving the other, smaller lands. They'd even fight over something as unarable as a desert.

"…accused us of encroaching on the Si Wong border, interfering with the sandbender cultures located there." Hikoshu realized she was still talking and drew his attention back to her. She didn't seem to notice, having assumed an almost lecturing tone. "Diplomatic talks, as too often happens, fell through once more and Ba Sing Se has been calling men into service near their Western borders. So we've decided that the best way to ensure the safety of our homeland is to show force on the border, as well."

Hikoshu glanced at Jongsu and saw a deep pain in his expression. The cleric may not have agreed with Omashu's decision on the best way to ensure their safety, or perhaps he didn't agree with her inclusion of Chirosan in the term 'homeland.' Either way, it was quite clear he simply didn't agree.

"Well…did you encroach on their border?" Hikoshu felt he was asking a stupid question, and the blank look she gave him said just as much.

"That's hardly the point, Master Avatar."

"Actually, that seems the entire point." Again, he felt rather simple, and he rubbed at his neck self-consciously. "You're having to amass troops because they're amassing troops because they think Omashu's going onto their land. I may not understand exactly how it started, but honestly, the overreaction seems to have stemmed from something that you may or may not have done."

Yan-lin stared at him. "Overreac-?" She stopped herself with an amazed shake of her head, her brow furrowed in wonderment. "I'm sorry, Avatar. You obviously haven't had much experience in diplomacy or knowledge in international conflict, to be oversimplifying such a complicated matter."

It was Hikoshu's turn to be insulted. She was right; he didn't have much experience in governing countries. But being the Avatar had to be worth a _little_ respect.

"Yes, what was I thinking? I suppose hundreds of past lives dealing specifically with matters like these don't measure up to the experience of a teenaged girl." He didn't refrain from sarcasm, though he resisted rolling his eyes as he sipped at his tea. Next to him, Miyo choked on her drink.

But that was the only sound in the sudden dead silence of the room. Hikoshu looked up at his hosts, who both stared at him with apprehensive terror. Yan-lin remained quiet, and he wondered for a moment if he had gone just a little too far.

"Master Jongsu," Yan-lin finally said, her voice strained, "forgive me, but I must retire early. I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow." And smoothly, before Jongsu could give her leave, she got to her feet. Bowing again, both to the cleric and to Hikoshu, she then swept toward the door.

Miyo abruptly grabbed his arm, hard, under the table as she leaned toward him. "Excuse yourself and escort her outside," she hissed in his ear, and he would have argued had her stare not barred any protest.

"I should see that Mistress Yan-lin makes it home safely," he said with a pleasant smile, though neither Jongsu nor his wife seemed to believe it. They gazed at him uneasily as he stood and bowed, and he could feel their eyes follow him as he left the room.

Yan-lin had already stepped out into the square courtyard by the time he caught up to her, her robes brushing over the gravel of the rock garden. In the faint moonlight, she moved almost like a ghost. "Mistress Consul, wait."

At his behest, she stopped several paces away, turning toward him with a remarkably blank expression. He pulled up short at her look and held the back of his neck. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he'd planned to do, though it certainly hadn't been to apologize. Yet now, that seemed exactly what his conscience demanded. "Listen, about what I said inside…"

"I left in respect of Cleric Jongsu's hospitality, Master Avatar," she interrupted, her shoulders rigid and her head held high. "I didn't leave in offense or in agreement with you."

That caught him by surprise, and he stared at her for a long moment. "Even still…"

Again, she interrupted coolly. "It does strike me odd that a man, having spent his entire life on one island or another, would pretend that he knows anything about the world _off_ an island, regardless of past-life experience."

Suddenly, the compulsion to apologize was gone. Silence fell on them as he glared at her, and in the dimly lit courtyard, she returned it with equal passion.

"Forgive me," he said in measured tones, his voice as icy as hers had been, "if my estimations are governed by common sense. Sense which dictates that if you don't want a fight, you don't start one."

"If only we were all so lucky as to be governed by your common sense."

Again, they lapsed into glares, the air between them far chiller than it had been on the back of Rosma. And he found himself wondering why he'd bothered to come outside at all. As if to remind him, the door slid open loudly at his back, Miyo's voice emerging from it.

"Well, I've pacified Master Jongsu and his wife, no thanks to you."

He turned to see her standing on the thin wood veranda, her body a silhouette in the light of the rice-paper windows. Because of that, he couldn't clearly see her expression. But it wasn't necessary; he could hear her irritation.

"Honestly, Hikoshu, I've never seen such boorish behavior."

"Me? I wasn't the one who started it." He gestured behind him, but hesitated with a frown as he noticed Yan-lin had already left. At the other end of the yard, he spied her black figure disappearing through the narrow gate in the wall.

Miyo stepped off the veranda, her agitated huff forming a white mist. "It's not about who started it, Hikoshu. The fact is, you showed great disrespect to your host, and you showed great disrespect to your host's guest." She was lecturing him, her arms folded into her long sleeves. "Yes, I know. You were offended. But you're the Avatar, Hikoshu. Try acting like it!"

He wanted to be sullen, but he also knew she was right. It hadn't been appropriate behavior. "Do I need to apologize to them?"

"I don't know." She gave a sigh, and once more, she was just his friend, her stern nun-like exterior gone. "I told them Fire Nation citizens have a more…informal cultural attitude toward invitations to tea. They seemed happy enough with the explanation, so apologizing at this point might just make them uncomfortable again."

"You lied for me?" He regretted insulting his host, but making Miyo lie was what really filled him with guilt.

She gave him a weary smile, anyway. "I'm your friend. Helping you avoid the consequences of your immature actions is what I do." The smile then melted into a frown. "But don't test me."

"Thanks," he said as she linked her arm into his and led him back toward the hall. "For making up for my stupidity."

"Hikoshu, what would you do without me?"

"Well, I'd probably be sleeping on the street, after they kicked me out." That made her laugh, and suddenly, the unpleasantness with Yan-lin was forgotten.

Together, they slipped back into the cleric's home and out of the cold night.


	14. Plans

**Chapter 13 - Plans**

* * *

Kuzon raged, papers scattering as he took his wrath out on the contents atop an innocent desk. The scrolls fluttered past Himizu, his pert frown briefly hidden by the shower, but he was not nearly as perturbed as the Fire Admiral sitting opposite him.

To be sure, Himizu was mad. Who wouldn't be? This was the worst news they could have, given the circumstances. But it wasn't the end of their plans. And a Fire Sage knew that to lose one's temper was to lose one's control of the situation. Kuzon seemed to be demonstrating that point perfectly well, grabbing his head in his hands as he leaned heavily on the desk.

To his right, the messenger bowed his head, his hands resting on the top of his thighs as he held himself stiffly in the hard bronze chair. Himizu studied him, trying to remember which Temple he hailed from. He was a Fire Sage-turned-government official, and therefore out of Himizu's jurisdiction. But Kuzon had chosen him specifically for his loyalty and his skill. Unfortunately, this diplomat – Kui-yan – had failed to deliver.

"How long ago?" Kuzon growled, retrieving a few of the scrolls that had landed next to him. They didn't seem to be the ones he wanted, for he smashed them in his fist and threw them back on the desk. He was a very large man with a very large temper, his eyes flaring under his heavy-set brow, his skin nearly as red as the wool of his naval uniform. A man who had earned his position through family ties, but who'd kept it with his fury.

"He left the same morning as we," Kui-yan said, his voice both cool and respectful. "He should reach the North Pole within the week."

"He was already aware of our intentions?" Himizu turned to address the diplomat, who spread his hands helplessly, smiling under a glossy mustache.

"The Air Nomads purposefully tried to obstruct us. I don't know what exactly your intentions are, your Eminence, but I suspect he probably knew some of them."

"Our intention was just to get him back here," Kuzon muttered as he massaged a temple near his thinning hairline, where Himizu could clearly see one bulging vein. "And in your botched attempts, you almost killed him _and _nearly caused an international incident. As if we could afford one right now!"

"If I could say, sir," Kui-yan ventured, and Himizu was already pretty sure he shouldn't say anything, "the Air Nomads are hardly a larger threat than the Northern Water Tribe at this moment, if there is truth to the rumors."

Kuzon's head snapped around, pinning him with a deadly glare. "There is _officially_ no issue with the Northern Water Tribe, and it will remain that way until I—" he caught himself with a frustrated frown at Himizu "—until Fire Lord Nizan chooses to divulge that information to the public."

"Reports from the Earth Kingdom say that Chief Tuluk is already on his way, and should be here within the next two weeks," Himizu added, perhaps unhelpfully. He plucked up one of the message scrolls that had fallen into his lap, giving it a cursory glance to see if it by chance was the one he was referencing. "I hope Fire Lord Nizan has in his esteem a diplomatic way to approach the Chief about this 'unofficial' issue." Kuzon nearly gaped at him. But he recovered quickly, his temper simmering down a bit at the prospect.

"The Fire Lord has yet to approach me on the subject. I would hope one of his _closer_ advisors would have some suggestions on that." This was not a subject proper for Kui-yan to hear, but Kuzon seemed to forget him, if briefly. The two stared at each other, Great Sage and Admiral, both contemplating who would have to take responsibility on the matter. And not for the first time, Himizu quietly cursed Nizan's bad planning.

He was the first to break their silent glares, turning once more to the hapless diplomat. "And the scroll? Did you return with that, at least?"

Kui-yan's exterior finally cracked. The color drained from his face as he glanced to Kuzon for verification, undoubtedly surprised that Himizu would have this knowledge.

He would find no help in Kuzon. The Admiral was equally startled, his temper dying altogether as he leaned backwards, and Himizu could practically see the excuses and plans running through his head. They were wondering how much he knew, how much he was supposed to know. They were now not certain who had control of this situation.

"You _were_ looking for a specific scroll, weren't you?" Himizu said, digging the knife a little deeper. He delighted in seeing them squirm, particularly when they were so convinced that he was left in the dark. Let them know now that nothing happened in this nation that he did not have some hand in.

Kuzon looked uncertainly to Kui-yan, and his expression was grim. As well it should be. Kuzon had thought to undermine him – had thought that he was a step ahead. But all of his best-laid plans would not alter anything Himizu had set in motion. He knew what Kuzon was doing, and it would be to no avail.

They didn't even realize yet that their plant at the Air Temple was in fact his. To use one of the women firebenders was foolish – _he_ was in charge of the Fire Temples, the Fire Academies. They were his and his alone.

Finally, Kui-yan shook his head, looking to Himizu. "There was no scroll." Of course, there wasn't. If there were, Pozhi would have brought it to him. Kui-yan would have never seen it.

Himizu glanced to Kuzon, maintaining the composed, rather jovial air he'd been working hard to maintain the entire time. Let Kuzon sweat out how much Himizu knew of his plans, and how much he was working to circumvent them.

"Well, if that's the case," he said, leaning forward to set the message scroll he'd randomly grabbed back on the desk before Kuzon, "then I shall consult Fire Lord Nizan on the matter. The Avatar should be entering the Northwest Territory of the Earth Kingdom by now, and hopefully we'll have some eyes on him before he reaches the Pole." He patted the desk as he pushed himself gingerly to a stand. "Don't be concerned, Admiral Kuzon. If this had been the only plan in play, well, we wouldn't be the great nation that we are, would we?"

He left the Admiral and his diplomat lackey with that final message. To remind them that, while they thought they were leading things to their ultimate destination, there were other powers working in a different direction. There were more than one or two players in this game.

Sotsu was waiting outside the door for him, as he expected. At Himizu's arrival, the Fire Sage pushed himself up from his spot against the wall, straightening the short-sleeved tunic of his uniform. Himizu barely paused, though, and Sotsu had to hurry to catch up as they walked swiftly through the Hall of Waves.

"Bad news, your Eminence?" he said after a moment of silence. Himizu gave a quick glance along the long corridor, but all the basalt-oak doors were closed, their black wood punctuating the decorative paintings of crimson waves along the wall.

"Things have grown a little more complicated," he said lowly, and Sotsu was forced to walk closer to hear. "The Avatar is in the North." He didn't often dwell on the snags in his agendas, as he often had contingency plans. But there were just too many now.

"The Avatar is in the North?"

Himizu ignored the question, brushing absently at his beard as his mind raced. "More importantly, he may know what we were looking for in the library. Retrieving him from the North would be difficult, but if he knows what we plan to do to him, it might very well be impossible."

"How can he know what we were looking for when even we don't know?"

Good question. Very good question, and he shot a frown at Sotsu. The other Sage had his head bowed, his unusually flat face shading his eyes oddly as he stared at the ground. Or perhaps he just hadn't been sleeping. Himizu seemed to remember that he'd been assigned to early morning classes with the junior students, in addition to the Dragon Hour rituals and his own students' training. Ridiculously bad scheduling on the part of the Fourth Sage – he'd talk to Lao-Shi about that.

"We'll have to go to the Desert Library."

Sotsu's face didn't change, though he missed a step, trailing behind Himizu. "The Knowledge Spirit will not approve, your Eminence. I would be shocked if he even had that sort of information."

"He has _all_ information that exists. Even if it were instructions for his own demise, he would have it."

"But Admiral Kuzon…"

"Is most likely thinking along those same lines." The fact that Kuzon had conspired to look for a scroll in the Air Temple Library told Himizu as much. He'd hoped that all of his efforts had gone undetected, but apparently he'd underestimated the Admiral. Himizu wondered when it was that Kuzon had figured it out, and how many years he'd been working against him. "He knew the Western Air Temple was the only place I hadn't yet searched, so he must know I've exhausted all other venues. If he isn't planning a trip to the Great Library, then I've given him too much credit."

"Your Eminence, forgive me, but surely there must be a better way." Such a naïve, optimistic statement, and he drew up to face Sotsu as they reached the end of the hall. The young Sage – not even yet fifty – also stopped, the dark circles under his eyes making him look haggard.

"I've been searching for years – more years than you've been a Sage." His mood darkened as he stepped out of the open doors and into the terraced world of the Fire Palace. It stretched before him, red and brilliant in the midday sun. "And I would have gladly continued to search at my leisure had not His Lordship forced my hand." But Sotsu wouldn't know anything about that. Wouldn't know about Nizan's ridiculous move on the Northern Water Tribe, and why it had suddenly become so _urgent_ to seize the Avatar. Why Kuzon's failed attempt to thwart Himizu at the Western Air Temple now almost demanded he find what he couldn't find in two decades of searching.

Sotsu wouldn't know anything about that because Himizu couldn't let him know. Not until he'd dealt with the Northern Water Tribe, as well as a few more of the snags.

"There's one other way. One more person who could help us," Himizu said after a long pause, and under the golden eaves of the Hall, he turned back to Sotsu. "But Omashu's guarded her since before the War, and only Du Gong's little salamander-monkey knows how to find her." Not only that, but it'd require the Avatar to use her. Gi-Luon had always made his intentions clear. If he could gain the Avatar's trust, the Omashu General would be happy to consult the _qu-dan_ on Himizu's behalf.

But any information she had would come at a cost. And Gi-Luon would certainly give it only to those who'd benefit him the most. Be it Himizu, the isolationists, or someone else.

"I never thought this would be easy," he said in response to Sotsu's somber look, after another heavy silence. "I'm trying to do what no one has ever done, though many have surely tried."

"Then what hope is there that you'll succeed?"

"Motivation, Sotsu. It's all about motivation." He gave Sotsu a weary smile, clapping him on the shoulder. "Soon, I promise you. We'll never have to worry about the Avatar again."

Sotsu returned the smile wanly, and Himizu once more recalled why the younger man had joined him. The fifteen-year sanctions set by Avatar Sidhari had hurt some worse than others; Sotsu's own family had been on the brink of starvation when he was taken into the Temple.

For many, a future without the Avatar was a dim but cherished hope.

"Have you seen your wife, Sotsu?"

At the question, his smile faded. "She's been caring for my mother since my brother died three years past."

"You should visit both of them. Take a two-week leave and get some rest. Tend to your family." The offer brightened his expression a bit, and Himizu thought there was a spark of life in his hooded eyes.

Still, he had to protest. "Your Eminence, I can't. I have my students…"

"You deserve a break. I'll talk to Fourth Sage about rearranging your schedule, and I'll see to it personally that your students are handled."

"Thank you, your Eminence."

Again, Himizu smiled. "When you return, the future will be much brighter. You have my word."

It'd be brighter for all the Fire Nation, for the whole world.

Very soon.


	15. The Northern Water Tribe

**Chapter 14 - The Northern Water Tribe**

* * *

The skyline shone yellow, at odds with the gray ocean and blue expanse of mountains. Hikoshu kept his eyes focused on the snowy landmarks, resting his chin on folded arms as he gazed over the lip of the saddle. Chian's hair snapped backwards and occasionally blocked his view, but she remained still, orange robes tucked carefully so that they wouldn't flap.

"I'm thinking of a person," he said, and the nun finally shifted to look at him, twisting her neck to catch him with a severe eye.

"Funny. I was having my own thoughts before you chose to interrupt them." Her voice wavered as if rusty, unused for the last six hours.

"It's a game. I think of a person. You try to guess who." Hikoshu raised his head and scratched at his stubbly chin. It'd been twelve days since his last bath, which he imagined showed. But shaving on a bison was unreliable, and shaving without a mirror even less so.

"I know the game," she said tersely, looking forward again. He waited for her to continue, realizing quickly that she probably wouldn't. Her patience with them had grown thinner over time, while his patience had become quite the opposite. When there were only a limited number of conversational partners, he supposed, one had to learn some tolerance.

"Is it a man or woman?" Miyo asked, propping herself next to him at the head of the saddle. She looked weary, hair a mess, robes wrinkled, but she apparently retained her humor.

"Woman."

"What Nation?"

"Could you play your games somewhere toward the back?" Chian snapped, raising a glare up at the two. Perhaps a week ago, they both would've shied away from the woman. Now, they returned a blank stare.

"Why such anger, Nun Chian?" Hikoshu asked, emboldened. "I thought that was a Fire Nation trait. Which, by the way," and he looked to Miyo, "is the nation my person's from."

Miyo tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Dead or alive?"

"It's Fa-chen, the last Fire Avatar," Chian said with distinct irritation and tugged the bison's reins sharply. Rosma, unfazed, still gave an indignant groan.

Hikoshu couldn't hide his gaping. "How did you…?"

"Both of you be quiet! I need to find the bison point and I can't with all this insipidity."

"I think she just called us insipid," Miyo murmured, obligingly moving away from the grumpy nun. Hikoshu followed her lead.

"If I knew what that meant, I'd be properly offended, too."

"Hush!"

They obliged, lapsing into a silence that had become common in the last few days. Hikoshu and Miyo were comfortable enough with each other to tolerate it, and Chian seemed to prefer it, so they passed the tedious hours doing their own things. Hikoshu usually made vague attempts to overcome his airsickness by looking over the side of the bison. It didn't go well the first several days, and for a period of time, he didn't eat anything at all. Now, though, he could at least watch the skyline without an overwhelming sense of vertigo. And this allowed some change from the monotony of the brown bamboo saddle.

Miyo would often meditate, which he occasionally joined her in. But their sedentary lifestyle was making him fidget, and he found meditation too difficult to focus on. So he spent a lot of time thinking, though the thoughts were always far from pleasant, and this made him even more restless.

They settled into this routine again, Miyo humming under her breath as she searched out a comb from her pack, and Hikoshu focusing his gaze on a distant mountain peak. As the white landform grew closer, the wind grew even chiller, ruffling through the bison's fur and biting at its passengers. Hikoshu had the foresight at the last stop to change into his formal Fire Sage attire, which had longer, thicker sleeves than his casual robes. The crimson cloth was still far too thin for such an environment, but Hikoshu could occasionally produce a flame that kept him warm enough.

The continent changed as the bison neared, bluish-white mountain ranges becoming distinct entities, the snow periodically broken by black patches of rock. On the periphery of the large expanse was a bay, and this was what Rosma flew toward. From that distance, it looked like nothing but ice and water. Hikoshu then felt himself grow dizzy as the continent moved further under the bison and he was forced to retreat to the center of the saddle.

"Do they know we're coming?" Miyo asked, breaking the sound of the wind's high whistle. Chian's voice floated back to them.

"As the squirrel-sparrow left the same day we did, it all depends on who made fewer stops." There was definitely a note of accusation in her voice, though Hikoshu had long ago grown used to it.

So he just ignored the quip. "If we're ahead of the messenger bird, shouldn't we let them know we're here first?" The bison abruptly dove lower, and Hikoshu grabbed at his usual perch in sheer terror. The descents were something which he had, unfortunately, _not_ grown used to.

"Airbenders are welcomed all over the world," Chian said. "The Water Tribe won't mind." As they slipped lower in the sky, the bay appeared within Hikoshu's line of vision, and he could make out features of the North Pole.

What he saw was both startling and beautiful.

The bay was blocked off at its furthest point by a man-made wall of ice. Inscribed in it were three wavy lines and a crescent moon, all encircled – the sigil of the Water Tribes. And behind it, the city rested above the ocean, ice buildings set in ordered rows around an immense city center that nearly reached the height of the surrounding ice cliffs. On top of those cliffs, large towers and a scattering of small buildings looked over the entire bay, past the Kaiyun-Ki Strait and to the Earth Kingdom far beyond the southern horizon.

It was enormous. Awe-inspiring.

"The wall wasn't there forty years ago," Chian said, her voice somber. "Nor were the watchtowers. How unfortunate the defenses we build around ourselves."

Miyo blinked, looking up from her packing to stare toward the front. Hikoshu was sure he felt the same way. Chian waxing philosophical was bizarre and a little uncomfortable.

He didn't have long to wonder. Rosma went lower, and he once again latched onto the saddle, saying a prayer under his breath. His eyes closed, he waited patiently for the long descent to end.

What felt like hours later, the bison landed hard on the ice, its padded feet thudding against the ground. By the time he opened his eyes, Miyo and Chian had both jumped out and left him in the saddle. Now alone, he gathered his nerves about him and peeked over the edge.

The ice city was so much larger from there, the towering center now obviously a tiered pyramid of ice buildings. They led up to a platform made of what looked like waterfalls, on which sat an even larger temple. And beyond that, the white cliffs loomed.

It was dazzling, sparkling in the sunlight like crystal. And it was sharp, more crisply carved than the wind-blown spires of the Air Temple. So entranced was he that it took him a moment to see where Rosma sat, though he eventually realized that they were on the edge of the city, standing on a platform that hovered high over a canal. The platform itself bore the spiraling sigil of the Air Nomads – a sign that marked the bison point.

There were also people below him; five or six men dressed in thick animal furs, their faces covered against the wind. Some carried spears, and all wore blue coats trimmed in white fur. Two of them – those speaking to Chian – also had two strips of fur running from their shoulders to the hem of the coats. At that distance, their voices were muffled under their scarves.

Hikoshu unsteadily pushed off the bison, catching himself with a gust of air. The landing was perfect, and he even posed regally as he hit the ground. That was, until his feet slipped against the ice, and he smashed hard into the platform. Everyone stared as he tried to get up, only to fall down again. After another try, he actually managed to stand, bending low at the knees to make sure he stayed that way. The Water tribesmen coughed awkwardly, the two closest to Chian and Miyo removing the scarves from their mouths.

"Master Avatar," the first one said with a hint of an accent, his expression particularly stiff and almost as cold as their surroundings. It had to be something typical of the Water Tribe; every man on the platform had the same stern look. "We weren't expecting you, I'm afraid. I ask that you please wait while the Chieftess is informed."

"Chieftess?" Miyo said simultaneously as Chian asked, "What happened to Chief Tuluk?"

The nameless man raised a gloved hand. "I'm not at liberty to speak of it. You'll have to ask the Chieftess once she's properly informed of your arrival."

This seemed to be the discussion they were having before Hikoshu had interrupted, as Chian turned her attention back to the second man. "This is unprecedented. Airbenders have never had to wait for permission in the Water Tribes. Chief Tuluk would not close his gates to us."

"I'm sorry, Elder Chian." The second man did sound apologetic, though his eyes were harsh. "If you would please be patient, the matter will be cleared quickly."

"In the meantime," said the other, "let us see to your bison and your belongings." The two men then shifted into a bending stance he'd never seen before, and the ice directly under Rosma began to fold inward. With a surprised shout, Hikoshu scrambled away from the moving platform, slipping clumsily from the bison. Rosma, in turn, gave an unhappy groan as he fell below the sheet, his disappearance followed by a loud splash. Neither Chian nor Miyo seemed concerned as the gap in the platform resealed itself.

The bison reappeared in the canal below the platform, in the center of a flatboat. Two waterbenders accompanied him, wearing the same blue-and-white coats as the men above. Their arms swung rhythmically as they ushered the flatboat down the canal, disappearing occasionally below the other bison points along the route only to emerge further on the water.

Hikoshu was once more trying to find his legs when a new waterbender appeared, skidding along the bridge that connected the platform to the outlying ice sheets of the city. He slid to a stop next to the two waterbenders, turning his back to Hikoshu and the nuns as he murmured a message to the apparent leader. They talked for a moment, and then the leader pushed past him to wave the airbenders forward.

"The Chieftess has been informed and she's asked to see you. We'll lead you to the kashiq."

"Kashiq?" Hikoshu whispered as the men headed for the bridge. Miyo glanced at him, then leaned in to reply.

"It's what you Fire Nation men would call the 'big ice palace.' Try not to fall down." She flashed him a grin and followed their guides. Hikoshu attempted to mock her, but nearly lost his balance upon stepping forward. With a gasp, he caught himself and changed his posture to account for the slippery ground.

The journey to the big ice palace was long, cold, and very foreign. The fairways were canals, and though there were walkways along the channels, a lot of people seemed to travel by boat. Occasionally, there was an open plaza, and Hikoshu could see women and children sitting near the fountains, swarthy faces peaking out from fur-lined hoods. The ice houses were regal and perfectly aligned, though many appeared to be vacant. When he questioned Miyo about it, she simply replied that the people would return in the winter, when the 'hunt' was finished. She said nothing more on the subject.

The ice was slick, far harder to walk on than the rock he was used to. It made the trek longer than it should've been, as everyone had to keep pace with him. The exertion in trying to stay up, though, did not keep him as warm as he expected, and at one point, he firebended a flame along the tips of his gloveless fingers.

Upon seeing the fire, Chian slapped the back of his head, forcing him to drop it. She then whispered angrily, "Watch yourself. The Water Tribe doesn't like firebenders." And in examining the people around him, Hikoshu found she may have been right. The looks of the Water tribesmen were hostile at best. Suddenly uncomfortable and a little anxious, he cursed the visibility of his Fire Sage robes and trudged on.

The kashiq was, in fact, a big ice palace. It stood at the very top of the city – a white, seven story monstrosity of oddly angled eaves and round windows. He thought, perhaps, it resembled a pagoda, though stone could never form such strange shapes. The waterbenders had certainly taken advantage of their more malleable material, and he admired the bizarre animal-headed colonnades that lined the lengthy stairs leading them upward.

As they climbed the stairs to the kashiq, Hikoshu slowly became aware that they had picked up more people than their original five guides. As far as he could tell below their scarves, they were all men who wore coats with white stripes at the shoulders, which he now imagined marked them as waterbenders. They drew closer and followed behind the small group. His anxiety growing, he nudged Chian, but she brushed him off with a terse grunt.

The door to the kashiq was huge – a solid block of ice with no perceptible break. Yet at their approach, two waterbenders stepped from the animal colonnades and forced the door to split, cracking wide to admit them into the immense building. Again, Hikoshu noted with unease, the ten or so waterbenders behind them followed.

Upon entering, they were overwhelmed in the vast size of the chamber, which echoed with the sound of rushing water. The source of the noise was a fall at the end of the room, flowing behind an equally large dais. As they walked toward it, Hikoshu noted the cisterns and animal-head columns that lined their path, guiding them to a large ice etching of the Water Tribe seal carved in the center of the room. This grew dimmer as the door slowly groaned shut behind them, and a moment later, the only visible light was from the thin ice that formed the ceiling. Hikoshu came to a stop on the sigil, Chian and Miyo at each side.

Despite the fading light, he could still see a woman sitting at the base of that large dais, looking diminutive under the waterfall. She was dressed in long furs so blue, they were almost purple, and at their approach, she stood to move closer. As she neared, he could see other details about her. Her black hair was pulled up partly in a bun and decorated with glinting ornaments, while her neck was swallowed in clacking bone necklaces. But more notably, two thin, blue lines ran from the corner of her eyes to the edge of her jaw – a tattoo that almost blended into her dark skin.

So absorbed was he in his study of her, that it took him several moments to notice the activity around him. The waterbenders had surrounded them, boxing them in on both sides and from behind. And as the single woman drew near, their bodies shifted, tensing as they distributed their weight over their feet.

"Miyo, behind you," Chian said, and Hikoshu realized that they had also assumed a fighting stance, their staffs raised defensively as they adjusted their frames to address all sides. The air abruptly changed from ominous to threatening, and Hikoshu felt his own guard rise, his legs finding a readied stance.

The woman, unaware or perhaps undisturbed by the tentative situation, stopped in front of them and folded her arms in her thick sleeves. Her bone jewelry clattered as she studied him over a sharp, unforgiving nose, and her gaze was just as cool as the icy room. As she spoke, her voice rang on the crystal colonnades, prickly and accusing.

"You must be the Avatar."

There were no other words; she simply nodded, and the men surrounding them moved into action. Water jumped out of the nearby cisterns at their bidding, hurling toward the three unprepared visitors.

Hikoshu had little time to react. But even before he could throw up a defense, the water broke into a spray close to his face, the cold nearly robbing him of his breath. A glance to his left showed that Chian had used her staff to slice through the attack. Without pausing, her glider a blur, she whirled around to catch another sluice of water as it swerved around her.

He couldn't give any more thought to the two airbenders, turning his attention instead to a crest of water descending on them. He threw a kick into the air, an arc of flame rising to meet the onslaught, and a thin cloud of steam poured over them as the two made contact. Around them, the waterbenders moved as one, hands slashing through the air as water formed wreaths around their bodies and darted obediently for the three. Hikoshu responded without thought to each attack, though panicked confusion filled his mind.

"Get out of here!" Chian abruptly shouted, and she spun about, throwing a blast of air into his back. With a strangled gasp, he attempted to catch himself. Yet the slick ice provided no footing, and he staggered, crashing into the woman who had signaled the attack.

He tumbled over her, rolling along the ice before he could force himself to stop. Awkwardly, he got to his feet, but the woman had been much faster. Her face twisted into a half-snarl, she threw her arms into a wide arc, yanking water from the neighboring cisterns. Partly on instinct, Hikoshu threw up a shield of air, and the water smashed into it hard, sending him into a slide backwards. Finally, the onslaught broke through his defense, slamming him into the ice floor as it coursed over him.

The water was cold – very cold. It ripped at his skin like pumice, choking his nostrils and ears. He could hardly tell the difference between the floor and the water, yet somehow he struggled to his feet, both hands pressed to the ground in order to steady himself.

As his eyes cleared, he saw the woman skating toward him along the ice, an arc of water wrapping around her body. Giving a guttural cry, she launched it at him, and he barely managed to counter it with fire. Pushing himself to a stand, he fought to keep on his feet as she produced another attack.

It was a strange dance – the woman moving lithely over the ice as he struggled to maintain his balance while also maintaining a defense. She urged him backwards as she pulled water from every direction, and Hikoshu found himself slipping into retreat, both by her water and by the recoil of his own air blasts. The air blasts, she merely twisted around, allowing her water to take the brunt of his bending.

Though she had to be twice his age, she was far more capable of dodging attacks. Hikoshu was ceding more ground, though he had no idea just how much he was able to surrender. In desperation to stop the assault, he gathered the air around him, building a force large enough that she couldn't merely roll underneath it.

She reacted more quickly than he'd hoped, her hands snapping upward. In response, the ice shifted underneath him and with a gasp, he fell over onto his back, barely able to turn into a safe landing. And then she called up a globe of water. It hovered over him a split-second before descending, changing into icicles as it fell.

His instincts screamed for a barrier of air, but his mind rebelled, half-aware that any attempts to deflect them would send them hurtling into others nearby. Powerless, he let the icicles land. They broke on the floor like glass, partly wedging into the ice where they hit, but apparently not hitting him. With some relief, he tried to push himself up, to somersault out of the way of the new attack the woman was already building. But his limbs failed to respond.

The ice had, in fact, hit him, and he saw that he was pinned to the floor, the shattered icicles holding him in place by his robes. He pulled hard, and one sleeve managed to rip enough that he could move his arm. Yet before he could manage the firebending necessary to free himself, the woman created a wave that loomed over him – a monstrous, translucent force that gained speed as it moved.

He expected to be washed away, and braced himself accordingly. It smashed into him just as hard as a sea squall, flattening him on the ice, and water filled his nostrils as its cold stole his breath. But it didn't move him as he'd anticipated. In fact, it stopped moving altogether.

Hikoshu's eyes flew open and he looked about in horror. The world outside his large sphere billowed with the current of the roiling water, and miniscule bubbles floated by his face. Past the liquid screen, he could see the woman standing, her hands held stiffly in front of her.

His chest burned, and air escaped his lips as the need to breathe abruptly seized him. He wrenched his legs away from the floor, but they held tight, still restrained by the icicles. Did she intend to drown him? Somewhere in the back of his mind, panic set in.

He couldn't firebend. Not when surrounded by water. That much thought came to him as his mind emptied from the cold. But maybe he could airbend. Desperate, he reached up with a numb hand, channeling all of his energy into calling air to him. He could see it begin to respond – see the air start to form bubbles, fighting the resistance of the water. Pain lanced through his chest, and he coughed out stale air, sucking in water instead.

The world very quickly grew dark after that.

**

* * *

A/N: **Of all the nations that have changed in a thousand years, in my view, the Water Tribes have changed the most. So there's going to be a lot of re-interpretation of them. For instance, use of words like 'kashiq', which I swear was not made up for no reason.


	16. The Chieftess

**Chapter 15 - The Chieftess**

* * *

"Get out of here!" Chian didn't know where he was supposed to go, nor did she care. As long as Hikoshu was there, she was saddled with protecting him. And protecting him would be far easier without the inexperienced youth in her way.

So she shoved him out of the ring of waterbenders, hoping he had enough sense to stay out of trouble until she could incapacitate all her opponents. A quick glance told her that Miyo was barely able to hold off the three men facing her, her staff only just blocking their attacks. Realizing that she'd have no help at all, Chian changed her tactics.

Airbending was a defensive art by nature. The temple Air Nomads did not believe in attacking—did not believe in gain through harming others. But Chian had lived through different times than Air Nomads in the past, and she knew how to defend in other ways.

The waterbenders immediately followed their target, the snake-like forms of water moving after Hikoshu. Chian stopped that, the air produced from her staff slicing those writhing forms in half. The water fell to the floor, lifeless, and before they could pull it up again, she leveled a blast of air at the knees of the three closest men.

It took out two of them, who had been concentrating on Hikoshu rather than her. The third managed a wall of ice, which he quickly transformed into water to throw at her. Two other waterbenders, who'd been blocking their way to the door, added their attacks to his, and all three created a wave formidable enough to easily take out any shield of air.

Grunting, she flew off the ground and forced herself high enough to overcome the crest of the wave. The benders spied her evasive jump and tried to shift the direction of the water, its crest just barely catching her legs. But unable to take the abrupt change, it crumbled and fell to the floor, Chian following in its wake.

The cold was enough of a shock to make her drop her staff on impact, and it skittered across the floor, landing at the feet of the two men she'd first taken out. But she had already abandoned it, using the speed of the rushing water to propel herself into her original opponent, the third waterbender. Without thought, he threw up another shield of ice, and she kicked her feet against it in order to propel herself into the two benders who had blocked the door.

They formed their own defense—their own shields, spiked with ice so that she couldn't hit them physically. Instead, she used air to fly over their barriers, and as she flipped over them, she created a vacuum between their two bodies. They slammed together hard, their heads smacking against each other, and as she descended, the two men fell.

Before she touched the ground, a missile of water crashed into her back, tossing her across the ice. The attack ripped at her joints, and the cold sent a jolt through her body. But ignoring the pain of exertion, she rolled on the ground and sprung to her feet. There was more water headed at her, thrown by the three men she'd originally tried to level with air.

Twisting her arms in front of her, she threw up a blast of air to meet the water attack head on. The two forces smashed into each other, held briefly stationary by the strength of the people behind each. But Chian was far older—far more experienced than the young men trying to face off with her. In less than an eye-blink, the wind slammed through the water, pushing back into the men who'd summoned it.

The force of the wind sent them skidding into a far wall, perhaps knocking them out, perhaps dazing them. Either way, they were no longer a threat, and she looked to Miyo.

The waterbenders must have overwhelmed her. She lay on the ground, wrapped in bars of ice that held her arms at her side. Those who had attacked Miyo now called up a cage of ice to hold her, their hands flying through the air to create the bars.

And Hikoshu wasn't doing any better. He was also on the ground, unmoving despite the large wave of water that the Chieftaness Inuma was directing. It crashed into him, and then abruptly ceased movement. Holding him in a sphere of water. Drowning him.

Another thought caused her even more terror. "Oh, spirits, the Avatar State." Miyo would have to wait. Pulling her soaked staff to her using air, Chian raced toward the Avatar, the bodies of unconscious benders left in her wake.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu felt more than saw the sudden shift – felt the water rip away from him with a force that tore at his robes and yanked the fabric from the icicles; felt a strong wind that made his frozen skin even colder. The darkness began to fade, and what filled its place was a sensation of drowning. Turning on his side, he choked up the remaining water, fighting back the urge to vomit as well.

Bleary-eyed, he looked for his rescuer. Standing above him was the orange blob that was Chian, her gray hair a dripping mess. He saw past her the waterbender woman, the two of them facing each other, one with hands bared, the other with staff at ready.

"What are you doing, Inuma?" Chian said, her raspy voice even raspier with fatigue. "Trying to kill the Avatar? Not to mention the insanity in _that_ idea, but the idea that he'd let you!"

"Chian, get out of my way," the woman—Inuma—said in a threatening tone, though her focused expression didn't change. She looked crazy, her shoulders hunched forward, her arms tense in front of her. "I have no issue with the airbenders. I just want the Avatar."

"I can't let you have him." In contrast to the threat of Inuma's voice, Chian's voice simply sounded committed. And the idea that Chian would fight for him when she didn't even like him was just as confusing as the idea of a woman he'd never met wanting him dead.

The woman bit her lip, perhaps considering the outcome. But then, as if surrendering, she muttered, "So be it." She twisted her foot, jerked her hands downward. And Hikoshu felt the floor collapse under him.

He landed inside a small cell with a painful 'oof' and Chian, losing her balance under the shifting ice, toppled onto him. The light into the tiny room dimmed as a solid sheet of ice slid shut over their heads.

"Inuma!" Chian shouted angrily, pushing herself to her feet, though it was doubtful anyone could hear them inside their frozen underground cell. Hikoshu used the walls to help him stand, his chest still sore from the past ordeal. "Inuma! Stop this madness!" She slammed her staff against the ice ceiling.

"Back away," he said, his throat hoarse and painful. Then, barely noticing if she had, he threw a fire blast at the ceiling.

She cuffed him over the head with her staff, which caused him to drop the flame.

"Stop that, you fool!" she hissed, and for a moment, he couldn't see her in his light-marred vision. "Do you want to roast us in here?"

"I'm trying to get us out," Hikoshu snapped, grabbing his ear where she had hit him. "If you think you can do better with airbending, be my guest."

She shook her head almost in disgust. "Yes, I suppose I could suffocate us. That death would be far more pleasant." Then, with renewed energy, she stabbed at the ceiling with her staff. "Inuma! Listen to me!"

"Where's Miyo?" Hikoshu asked, his growing concern quickly masking his discomfort. "Why isn't she in here?"

"She's been captured by the waterbenders," said Chian, though her attention was still on the top of the cell.

"What…?" Hikoshu was horror-stricken. If she wasn't in the cell with them, where was she? What had they done to her? "Chian, you let them take her?"

Chian scowled at him. "My job is to protect the Avatar. Not foolish nuns who have no idea how to use the gift the spirits gave to them. Now, hush, so I can do my job."

Any kind of gratitude he bore for the Elder quickly changed back into dislike. His stomach churned, half out of fear, half out of the desire to _do_ something. Yet he was precluded from any attempt when the ice over them suddenly shifted, forming slats that allowed the light from the above chamber to stream into the cell. Hikoshu peered out of the icy bars, only able to see the ceiling of the kashiq.

Inuma's face appeared through them, her blue eyes narrowed in anticipation of an attack. Hikoshu had the desire to confirm her fears, to throw a blast of fire up at her, but the thought that she held Miyo restrained him. Chian lowered her staff, though her voice was filled with all the anger that Hikoshu felt.

"I demand you explain your actions!"

The woman's gaze locked on Hikoshu, as if never hearing Chian's words. In that gaze was more loathing than he'd ever seen in an individual, toward him or another. "Where's my family, Avatar?"

"Where's Miyo?" he countered, bristling with his own fury. Her eyes widened at his presumption, and behind the wet strands of black hair hanging loose from her intricate bun, she truly looked insane.

"I'll ask one more time; where's my family?"

"This is outrageous." Chian's staff flew up to push Hikoshu back and out of the Chieftess' focus. "We bring the Avatar here for his training – _appropriate_ training—and you attack us? I demand to speak to Chief Tuluk!"

Chian got her wish; Inuma's hate-filled glare slowly turned to her, and even though the airbender didn't back down, Hikoshu almost sensed her strength failing. "Tuluk's on his way to the Fire Nation. To find my daughter and brother."

"The Fire Nation?" Hikoshu repeated, pushing Chian's staff out of his way. Confusion battled with anger, as well as an ominous feeling that his troubles were only about to get worse. "What happened to your family?"

Wrong thing to ask. Inuma snapped her arms in the air. In response, a cascade of water flowed through the slats and into the chamber, and filled it to their knees. Hikoshu splashed backward to avoid the waterfall, the chill in his spine seizing him with a shiver.

"Inuma, stop!" Chian commanded, ignoring the shallow pool that floated her robes around her legs. The water ceased flowing, though Hikoshu doubted it was anything she had said.

"You know very well what happened to them!" Inuma said as she once more knelt by the grate. "They were taken hostage in order to train _you_!"

"That's insane," Chian answered for him. "We brought him here to be trained. Why would the Avatar ever condone kidnapping?" Hikoshu knew she was trying to reason with the Chieftess. Yet, as Inuma was still in the process of trying to kill them, there seemed to be little reason involved.

"Perhaps not the Avatar, but a _firebender_ certainly would." Inuma nearly spat at him through the grate. "The char-eaters that took them said they intended to train the Avatar to waterbend. As if my brother would so degrade himself!" Her wrath had grown such that she raised her hands and flushed more water into the chamber, filling it to his waist. Now the cold was almost paralyzing, and Hikoshu gasped in pain.

"That makes no sense," Chian protested; though the water level was at her chest, she was somehow still enough in her right mind to argue. "If the Avatar wanted to train in the Fire Nation, why would he be here? Inuma, listen to me. We're trying to keep Hikoshu _away_ from the Fire Nation. We know nothing of who took your family or why."

"I think I now see that."

Hikoshu stared up at her in horror, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Her wrath was now fading into a cold calculation that somehow made her eyes seem even crueler, and her mouth was pulled into a thin line.

"No person, not even a Fire Nation citizen, would be dim enough to come to the territory of his enemy," Inuma continued. "If they had truly kidnapped my brother to teach you waterbending, you wouldn't be here. So it's apparent to me you have nothing to do with the abductions. And since you've revealed that you're also running from the Fire Nation…"

Hope filtered through the fog that was starting to cloud Hikoshu's mind. It was a vague hope, surrounded by distinct feelings of doom – small optimism in the face of adversity. And when she bended the water out of the cage, the cascade strangely flowing _up_ the walls, that optimism bloomed despite his uncontrollable shivering.

Immediately, the grate disappeared altogether, and the ground thrusted upward. Both Hikoshu and Chian fell over as they were brought back into the inner-chamber of the kashiq, Chian's glider catching him squarely in the head.

"Your intentions, good or otherwise, do not matter to me," Inuma said, moving away from them. Hikoshu picked himself up and looked around desperately for Miyo. Four of the waterbenders remained, but there was no sign of his friend, the large room empty. "The fact is that my brother and my daughter have been abducted. And having no recourse in diplomacy or in war, my husband goes to do what he can to rescue them.

"But apparently they have my family whom I want returned." Inuma stopped in order to stare at him pointedly, her hands folded into the thick blue sleeves of her parka. "And I have you."

"You can't be suggesting," Chian said with a look of shock, her staff once more in her hand, "that you would give Hikoshu _back_ to the Fire Nation?"

"Believe me, I have no pleasure in giving the Fire Nation what they want," Inuma answered with some disgust, never taking her eyes off Hikoshu. There was something else in her expression, in addition to hatred—desperation. For a moment, she very closely resembled the drawings he had seen of arctic-wolves in scrolls. "But I imagine the trade would be more than fair."

"Chieftess Inuma, please consider this." Now Hikoshu was trying to reason with her. That small hope died slowly in his chest, replaced by a chill colder than his saturated robes. "Before I left the Western Air Temple, the Fire Nation was trying to bring me home. And whoever wanted it, I think, may have been involved in the Fire Lord's death." Chian hissed under her breath at his revelation; apparently, she thought he was talking too much.

"The Fire Lord's dead?" Shock underlay Inuma's interruption, one swarthy hand grasping her head. She wasn't letting him get to his point, but he nodded anyhow. "That means…the Fire Prince has taken the throne…"

"But if there is some conspiracy—some desire to get me home and keep me there, as this situation with your brother suggests—then it would be pure lunacy to turn me over to them." It was his first admission aloud that the Fire Nation, rather than a single individual, may have been conspiring against him. The thought tasted bitter on the back of his tongue, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. So he pushed it away for some other moment.

"I have no choice, Avatar." She was wooden, uncaring. Obviously, she still hated him. If not for the kidnapping of her brother and daughter, then for the fact he was a firebender.

"But what if you do?" The idea suddenly sprung to mind, and he clung to it as his only alternative to a physical fight to save Miyo. "What if instead of handing me to them in trade, you allowed me to go rescue them myself?"

"Be quiet, boy," Chian snapped, her anger forcing her to speak. "You're being a fool." Inuma seemed to agree, giving him that blank look that so many people bore when he'd asked a stupid question.

"Instead of giving you to them in exchange for my loved ones, you want me to just…let you go? And trust you'll come back with them?"

"Well, yes."

She looked on the brink of laughter. If she'd been a little more sane and a little less angry, she just might've. Instead, she gave herself a shake, as if convincing herself the surreal conversation wasn't just a dream.

"You _are_ a fool."

"But listen! The fact is that they have _two_ of your family members, correct? Your daughter and your brother. And when they seize me, they'll still need a waterbender; as you said, that was the reason a waterbender was kidnapped in the first place. So why would the Fire Nation give both tribesmen back to you?"

That got her attention. She stared at him, considering, but apparently still unwilling to admit the truth in his words. Next to him, Chian fumed. She probably wanted him to shut up, but the fact that he was talking Inuma into letting him go prevented her from interfering.

"If the Fire Nation were to say they would give your daughter back in exchange for me, and only your daughter, what would you do? Would you say no? How much of a chance are you willing to take on their desperation for me?"

"Then I would still have my daughter," she said coolly, straightening her back in a manner that made her look every part of a queen and a mother. "If I were to release you, I have no guarantee I'll see either of them again."

"You'll just have to trust that, as the Avatar, I'm willing to do the right thing and to keep my word." Alright, that did sound a bit foolish, and the Chieftess obviously agreed.

"The word of a firebender is worthless to me. I need something more…binding." She lifted her hand in an almost dismissive gesture, and suddenly, the ground next to her parted, spitting up a bedraggled person.

Which Hikoshu recognized immediately as the bound figure of Miyo, her hair fallen over her face and ice wrapped around her arms. He stepped forward in order to grab her, but Chian slammed her staff against his chest, stopping him.

"So you're going to barter with an Air Nun, instead," Chian said, her voice assuming the flat disdain that was so characteristic of her. "You would do such a thing to the Air Nomads."

"You must believe me, Chian," Inuma said, bending the ice to grab Miyo by her arm, and the airbender hung limply in her grasp. "I have no desire to harm the Air Nomads, but the Avatar has made an excellent point, and I see no other way."

Hikoshu was no longer cold. In fact, the air around him had become very hot as anger spread through his body, filling every one of his limbs with unreleased energy. Miyo's hair fell back and he saw that she was unconscious, though unharmed, her face pallid.

"If you hurt—"

"Spare me the threats." She dropped Miyo to the ground, and the bonds of ice melted away from the young nun. "Here's my offer. Go to the Fire Nation. Save my brother and child. If they come home safe, then you're free to return to the Western Air Temple together."

"What if he's hurt in the process?" Chian asked, and he threw a surprised look at her. Could she actually be considering the plan? He thought she would be against it from the start.

"Don't make it an option," Inuma said bluntly.

His idea had gone from an artful contrivance to rescue all three of them to a deal that he'd never want to make. At no time would he risk Miyo's life on his chance of failure, and all of a sudden, the reality of the task he was offering to do hit him. Chian was right. It _was_ a foolish thought that he could take on the entire Fire Nation and come out of it unscathed, uncaptured, and with two people who were likely well-hidden. Now that it involved a life other than his own, he was reluctant to even try.

But, as Inuma had said, what choice did he have?

"I'll bring them back," Hikoshu finally managed, though his thoughts were on how possible it would be to fight all the waterbenders and escape the kashiq alive. The odds still seemed better than the rescue mission to the Fire Nation. "But you must swear to me that you will treat Miyo as your guest – as a welcomed guest – until I return. Being an airbender, she deserves at least that."

"Miyo?" The woman stared at him in confusion, then shook her head. "No. I'm not keeping this _child_. Why would I do that?"

Now it was Hikoshu's turn to be confused. "I thought…"

"I'm holding Chian captive."

"What?" they both said simultaneously. Chian again shoved her staff into his chest.

"You can't do that. The boy's still inexperienced. Without a master, he'll be eaten alive in the Fire Nation."

"Oh? I thought he was the Fire Avatar," Inuma answered with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Why would I hold onto an airbender of no consequence when I could hold onto the Elder of the Western Air Temple? You would be worth far more to me than a child. Far more collateral for the Avatar to return on." She signaled two of the waterbenders, who assumed a bending stance as they started toward Chian. She answered by holding up her staff defensively.

Hikoshu started to protest, then thought better of it. He didn't have a choice in the matter; he would either have to risk Chian's life on his chance of failure in the Fire Nation, or risk all of their lives on his ability to fight his way out of the kashiq. The former meant that, at least, he could get Miyo out of danger.

"You still swear by the same, though? That she'll be treated appropriately until I return?"

"Chian is an old friend of mine. She'll be treated as such," Inuma said, for once actually looking sane. But the glare that Chian leveled at the Chieftess said they would mostly likely not remain friends after this.

The waterbenders approached her again, and once more, she assumed an airbending stance. Quickly, Hikoshu grabbed her shoulder and leaned in to speak near her ear.

"Listen, fighting them is not going to change anything. But I can do this! I can get them back. And maybe I can find out what is happening in the Fire Nation. You have to trust me on this."

She glanced up at him, her anger creasing the blue arrow on her forehead. "You're a fool, Hikoshu. You'll always be one." But she stepped out of her stance, lowering her staff to her side. The waterbenders, still anxious, tried to take her into custody, and she waved them away. "I'm not fighting. Just lead me wherever you're planning to hold me."

Hikoshu didn't wait for Inuma's permission to let him go to Miyo. The moment that Chian relented, he slid to Miyo's side and pushed her hair away from her face. As he'd first assumed, she seemed to be alright. But her skin was still pale, and her breathing was unusually shallow.

"What did you do to her?" he said, gathering her into his arms. Inuma must have heard him as she stood right above them, though she didn't reply until he asked again.

"She's been cold for too long." The statement was terse, and hardly the kind of explanation he was looking for. "I'll have some furs brought to you."

"You've done enough," he said and he slipped his hands under her wet shawl to rub at her bare arms. Heat moved through his fingers, flushing through her skin as he warmed around the air around them. Under his touch, she felt chilled and unresponsive. "When am I leaving here?"

"As soon as possible," she said, echoing his thoughts. "I'll have arrangements made for your prompt departure, and then I want you out of my country. Immediately."

He ignored the rude dismissal as he pressed his cheek to Miyo's. Her head rolled against him, and he clutched her tighter, praying silently that she would wake up.

**

* * *

A/N: **In response to a kind reviewer, who pointed out that Hikoshu was rather easily subdued for a half-realized Avatar (because it's an awesome point), my long explanation is that he was forced into a one-on-one fight with a much more capable opponent (Inuma is quite talented), he has no confidence in his airbending, and he could barely even walk on the ice.

However – and a big however – if the reasons why he didn't have a chance against Inuma aren't very clear in the last chapter, then that's my fault for unclear writing. I can _tell_ you what I intended, but that kind of defeats the purpose. So if anyone has any suggestions for how that scene could be written/edited better, please let me know. I'm glad for any and all advice. If the reasons above still don't seem like very good ones, please let me know that, too.

Rest assured, though, his fighting abilities do get better.


	17. Roles

**Chapter 16 - Roles**

* * *

"How is she?"

Hikoshu was startled to find himself face-to-face with Chian. Not literally—the woman was a head and a half shorter than he, but she stared up at him with enough hardness in her old gray eyes to make him pull back.

"The healers say she'll be fine," he answered vaguely, allowing the furs over the entrance to fall back into place. The warm, firelit room disappeared behind them, taking the view of Miyo's unconscious form with it. "They said it was shock of the cold, more than anything." An awkward silence as the two stared at each other, and he finally pushed past her in order to break the uncomfortable moment. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in some sort of ice prison?"

Chian snorted derisively, skirting his question altogether. "A child who doesn't even know how to control her own heat. Ridiculous sending her here."

"Well, were you planning to do something about it?" Hikoshu rounded on her. Then, realizing the tone he'd assumed with a superior, he dropped his gaze. "Forgive me, Mistress Chian. It's been a long day." He didn't know if she had reacted to his disrespect—Chian wore a perpetual look of disapproval and mortification.

The exact same expression that she had at the moment, her chin lifted in righteous indignation. She paused, as if letting him remember his place, and then folded her staff in the crook of her arm. "Come. We need to talk." Without another word, she swept past him, moving away from the small quarter of ice houses that lined this side of the canal. Unable to argue, Hikoshu merely followed.

They walked for a long time without speaking, Chian leading him across narrow bridges and along walkways that all seemed to end in water. He quickly lost his orientation, the terraces and tall buildings half-obscured in the night, and he worried he may not find his way back to Miyo. Still, Chian continued on, the moonlight casting her hair in a blue nearly the same shade as the ice. There was a slight lean to her gait, favoring the left side, and eventually she began to use her staff to aid her. The fight must have taken more of a toll than she'd admit. Though—Hikoshu noted with some envy—she looked completely dry. Even after airbending off most of the water, he still felt mildly damp. It was a sign of how much practice he still needed to perfect the skill.

Eventually, they came to the edge of the quays, the frozen pathways and the large, neighboring canal both empty at that time of night. A single canoe bumped loudly against its dock, moored on a large peg of ice that might have been waterbended simply for that purpose. Chian stopped so close to it that Hikoshu wondered briefly if the boat was for them. Her head twisted as she scanned the open quays, bereft of buildings, as if to make sure there was no one who could watch them.

"What are we doing out here?" he finally asked, his breaths forming a dense white fog.

Chian turned toward him, and her face was somehow even sterner in the open moonlight. "I don't like you, Hikoshu."

The declaration took him aback. It wasn't as if he was deluded into thinking she harbored a secret admiration of him. But to have it put so bluntly was a shock, and he felt a certain level of disappointment. Perhaps he'd hoped to win her over with time. Perhaps he'd never wanted it confirmed.

Chian continued, either unaware or uninterested in his response. "Though the spirits know I should be more accepting, I don't like you at all. You're impudent, you're wreckless. You have no concept of consequences." Hikoshu half-expected her to count on her fingers, the list came out so smoothly. But her glare remained locked on him, unchanging. "You think too much when you fight, you don't think enough when you talk, and you are entirely oblivious of anything outside of your small sphere of existence."

He felt brow-beaten. If Chian had a talent at anything, it was at making a person feel worthless. And unwilling to argue and make her point for her, he stood there quietly as she berated him.

"And these are not Avatar traits—these are '_you'_ traits. These are characteristics of an immature boy put in a position of power without any kind of true restraint. You may not be a _bad_ pupil, but you're horribly inexperienced and completely unprepared for anything you're about to face." Her angry façade cracked, and she glanced about helplessly, for once looking very vulnerable. "You don't know what a war is. You've barely seen any conflict at all! And I'm left wondering how we can possibly prevent the trouble that's lurking on the horizon when you can't even handle your basic purpose."

Though it was the most open, and the most human, he had ever seen Chian, Hikoshu still felt insulted. "Basic purpose? What am I, a tool?"

"Yes!" Chian jerked her glare back on him, bridling at his tone. "You're a tool, and a particularly ineffective one at that. You're supposed to bring the world harmony, hold the Four Nations together and give us balance. But what have you done? Every lifetime, the same role played out. Every iteration, the world comes to the brink of imbalance and you stop it just in time, only to repeat it all a hundred years later. So, yes, Hikoshu, you're a tool. Your sole reason for being is to save _us_ from ourselves."

Hikoshu nearly gaped, frustration building in his chest at her summation of him. Chian had reduced him to an inanimate lifeform, an imperfect weapon that made little long-term difference in the world. It was coarse. But, he realized, not much different from the various other interpretations he'd heard.

"Is this what you wished to tell me, Mistress Chian?" He wanted to be respectful, but after such a tirade, he had difficulty dredging up the courtesy. "Why you dragged me out here?"

"Stop being sullen," she snapped, wrapping her arm around her staff in order to shift her weight onto it. Whatever pain she was feeling seemed to be getting worse, though Hikoshu couldn't muster any pity. "Grow up. Accept who you are. We all have roles to play, Hikoshu. You have to be the Avatar. Miyo has to be a fool. And though I hate it right now, I have to be an Elder." She sighed, her shoulders sinking wearily against the staff. "I came to tell you that you'll be doing most of this alone."

"Do what?" He blinked at her abrupt change in tenor. "Do what alone?"

"Everything. But what I mean specifically is this idiotic errand." She shook her head, almost despondent. "I tried to argue with them, convince them to send me in your place. But airbenders are not highly valued for our 'courage.' People seem to think if you avoid fighting, you must be a coward." If anything, she grew even more depressed, leaning heavier on the staff. "So I play my part as an Air Nun Elder, and I stay here at ransom."

She then pushed herself up, fixing him with her cold glare once more. "But that's my point. Your role—the role of the Avatar—is for the good of the _world_. Not the Water Tribe, not Miyo, and certainly not me. I want you, for the good of everyone, to abandon this absurd task and just leave. It's better that I stay here and face the Water Tribe than for you to be killed or captured trying to do the impossible."

The boat struck against the dock in the ensuing quiet, matching the sound of waves eating at the ice walk. Chian still wore that ever-present glower. But there was something else—the same kind of commitment he had seen in her when she stood between him and the Chieftess. It wasn't an emotion, so much as it was resolve. And for the first time, he realized that Chian and he might want the same thing.

After a moment of mutual understanding, he finally broke their silence. "Well, as noble as it is of you to so selflessly sacrifice your life for the world, Mistress Chian, I'm afraid that what you're asking is impossible, too."

"Hikoshu, don't be rid—"

"I'm not being ridiculous. In fact, I'm being a pillar of virtue, while also an inexperienced, self-absorbed child." Feeling the need to demonstrate, he twisted toward the canal and shifted his weight onto his hind foot, drawing his arms along his body in mimicry of the moves he'd seen the waterbenders perform earlier. There was an odd change in his inner energy, the _chi_ flowing with his arms and moving forcefully away from the water.

The channel responded: a nearly imperceptible swell rising to hit against the quay and disturb the rhythmic rocking of the boat. Hikoshu repeated the gesture, though nothing else happened. It was as if the water wanted to answer him, but couldn't follow the orders he was giving.

"That." Satisfied with his point, he turned back to Chian. "How am I going to learn waterbending if I've alienated all the Water Tribes? And what good is an Avatar who can't waterbend? You may not believe it, but I really do understand something of politics. And right now, to improve my relationship with both Tribes, I pretty much _have_ to save their tribesmen."

Chian didn't respond, which pleased him; it meant she had nothing to say. He was making sense, and she could hardly argue with him on that.

"Then what about Miyo?" Chian finally said. "You can't expect to take her on such a ridiculous mission."

"Of course not. I just don't want to leave her here." Not in the care of Inuma. Not somewhere he couldn't be sure of her safety.

Chian for a moment actually looked proud—just a small break in her armor of glowers and frowns—and she gave a sharp nod. "Then you should take her. I'm going to lend you Rosma for the journey."

"Your bison?" asked Hikoshu, surprised. "But we can't fly him without you."

Chian held up a hand to brush off his arguments. "He won't be happy about it, but I don't plan for it to be a long arrangement. I want you to take Rosma and Miyo to the Northern Air Temple."

The cold was starting to set in. Trying to return some heat to his fingers, Hikoshu tugged at the sleeves of the heavy coat he'd borrowed. His numb skin barely registered the fur-lined cuffs. "So you want me to go to the Air Temple and ask for a new bison rider?"

"And I want you to leave Miyo there." She grimaced as she pushed her weight back onto the staff, moving around him. "Make sure when you leave that either you have your own bison or you only have a bison rider with you. Whatever it takes to minimize risk. And as soon as you arrive at the Air Temple, you need to speak immediately to Elder Palnam. Don't speak to the abbot or any of the other Elders; if they try to take you to them, insist you speak to Palnam. He was a close friend to the previous Avatar, and he should be able to help you. Tell _no one_ about what happened here except Palnam, understood?"

"Palnam. I got it." He followed after her, wondering why exactly she didn't trust the other Elders with this kind of information.

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him, and he almost slipped trying not to run into her. Fortunately, the bone-lined boots he'd also been given caught on the ice and kept him in place.

"This might be the last opportunity I have to talk to you."

Unwilling to have a 'farewell' speech with a woman who had just declared her general dislike of his entire existence, Hikoshu stared at her blankly. "Perhaps."

Chian sniffed in apparent offense at his ungracious treatment of her parting words of wisdom. "I wish I could have done a lot of things differently with you."

"So I've understood."

"The fact is, Hikoshu, the Avatar has not done much right in my lifetime." She eyed him closely, probably taking in the amalgam of clothing that he wore, the disheveled and unshaven look he had after nearly two weeks of travel and a long day of fighting. As he so often noted himself, he hardly seemed like anyone's savior. "Just prove me wrong, alright? Give me a reason not to think you're a waste of potential."

He wanted to be flippant, but there was something so serious and earnest about her—far more serious than normal—that he responded only with, "I'll try." She stared at him, weighing his sincerity, then gave another nod and began walking again.

Feeling an odd amount of pressure, and respect for the woman despite himself, Hikoshu followed behind her.


	18. Embarkment

**Chapter 17 - Embarkment**

* * *

Don't panic.

Nizan kept repeating those words as if they were some sort of charm, protecting him from evil and vengeful spirits. Perhaps, he thought, they would. Surely at this moment, he had reason to fear such things.

"Kanzagan, Fire Lord to our nation for twenty-six years." Himizu stood in front of the sea of red, his own red robes blazing under a midday sun. He looked like he belonged there – like he knew exactly the right words to say. Nizan wish he had those same words.

But he had nothing inside him. Just a hollow feeling of _wrongness_.

The sun beat down on the top of his head, and though his clothes were white for mourning, their weight was almost oppressive in the humid Fire Nation air. Or perhaps it was his conscience that weighed down on him more. Roughly, Nizan shoved the thoughts aside. He did what he had to do. The spirits would forgive him.

"A light of hope in the aftermath of the Ten-Years War. He guided us true in times of turmoil and returned our country once more to the prow of progress." Himizu's voice boomed from in front of his father's golden pyre, inspirational yet vague. And Nizan knew how much of it Himizu really meant, even if the mixed audience of royalty and military didn't. "You were the son of Kapil, now passed. Successor to your uncle, Gusoku, now passed. Brother of Zenshi, now passed. Brother of Pran, now passed. Husband of Tala, now passed. Father of Nizan. Father of Tala."

Nizan winced at the recounting of each name, painful memories of his family brought to his mind. How, after the crimes and eventual exile of his uncle Zenshi, the Fire Nation was plunged into a two-decade depression that they barely recovered from. How, in the shame of his son's actions, Nizan's grandfather Kapil had abdicated and Gusoku took over. And how, after officially clearing the name of his brother, Gusoku had passed on the title to his nephew Kanzagan. So much controversy, so much trouble for the Fire Lord line. It was surprising the royal heritage had survived at all.

But, as Himizu had told him, it was time to move on from that. It was time for Nizan to clear the lines and start over, fresh and with new purpose. They had to move on from forty years ago, and Nizan would be the first of a new dawn.

The Great Sage concluded his speech and signaled for the lighting of the pyre. Nizan trained his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge his father's corpse burning next to him. It was time to move on. Time to begin again. On the other side of him, he could feel his sister Tala's eyes, rife with hatred and accusation, bore into him. Let her blame him. He still blamed her for their mother's death.

At least their mother had been worth something to someone.

Upon Himizu's signal, Nizan slowly made his way to the center of the terrace, kneeling at the top of the steps, facing out on a full courtyard where the greatest of the Fire Nation's citizens gathered to pay homage to both him and his father. He could feel Himizu place the weight of the Fire Lord's diadem on his head – feel it sear his skull as if it had been plucked from the fire directly from Kanzagan's hair.

"As was your wish, you are now succeeded by your son. Hail, Fire Lord Nizan!"

They all bowed. And inside him, his soul writhed as if on fire itself.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu wanted to believe that Miyo had fully recovered, but she didn't really. The healers said that physically, she was fine. Yet there was a sadness in her demeanor that had appeared at the Air Temple, and had only become worse after the fight with the waterbenders. He tried to ask her about it, after she was able to sit up and drink a thin brown kelp broth that smelled less appealing than just starving to death. She waved him off, her face drawn, and said nothing.

Her tight-lipped attitude continued for days, sometimes changing with the weather. When the sun was out, she would smile and laugh, though not quite as brilliantly as she used to, and when the clouds rolled over, she would grow somber and quiet. Hikoshu spent most of his time with her, only leaving when she was dead-set on being alone. But there weren't many places for him to go; even knowing he was the Avatar, the Water Tribe people stared at him coldly and shied away at his approach.

Perhaps the knowledge of the kidnapping had gone around. No one ever told him if it was that or something else.

They stayed at the North Pole for a week, never venturing further than the surrounding rows of ice houses. Even Chian had disappeared to a quarter of the city they didn't visit. The next time that Hikoshu saw her was at their departure.

The gathered sight-seers parted when Miyo and Hikoshu neared, allowing them to cross the narrow bridge to the bison point. There, five waterbenders flanked Inuma, who looked regal in the sunlight, her face covered in the shadow of her white-trimmed hood and her long coat reaching her knees. The waterbenders all wore the distinctive white stripes from their shoulders to the hem, excepting one; the strips of fur on his coat only reached his waist.

But Hikoshu had his eyes trained on the person standing behind those tribesmen. Just over their heads, he could see Rosma's saddled form, and at the bison's nose was Chian, her crisp orange robes visible between the blue coats. Her mouth was moving with whispered encouragements that were lost both in the distance and in the general murmur of the crowd, and Hikoshu marveled at her tenderness as she held Rosma's cheek.

His attention was brought back to the waterbenders when Inuma spoke, her voice hardly loud enough to reach the dozens of people standing at the canal. In response, the crowd fell silent, out of respect or perhaps curiosity.

"I have no reason to trust a firebender. But I will trust you, Avatar, to bring home my brother and daughter." Her words were surprisingly soft, the iron from the preceding week missing from her tone. Suddenly, she was just a mother, powerless and desperate to save her child.

She gestured behind her to Chian, who now stood stiffly at Rosma's side, one hand on the large beast's head. "Elder Chian has generously offered you the use of her bison, whose saddle we have filled with enough provisions to last you until you reach an Earth city. We have little to offer in terms of food for Air Nomads, but we've provided you with what we do have." That probably meant something worse than brown kelp soup. By his arm, Miyo was expressionless.

"I will not give you a deadline, though you're certainly aware that the longer you take to return, the less sure we'll be of your success." She didn't indicate what she would do if he didn't return, but a hidden threat in her words told Hikoshu that she'd think of something.

Inuma in the past week had not given him much reason to be civil, but he felt compelled to bow before her, a fist pressed against his open palm. "I can't guarantee I'll be successful, but I do promise you if I'm not, I'll either be captured or dead." _Either way, you should find a little comfort in that_. He chose not to add his thoughts.

Inuma nodded, accepting his oath. Then, raising an ungloved hand, she signaled to the waterbender with the different stripes on his coat. The unusually-marked man stepped forward at the command and unwrapped his scarf, which caused some anxiety in Hikoshu. He still doubted the sudden movements of waterbenders. As Inuma continued speaking, though, he forced himself to let down his guard.

"I understand that you have come here to learn waterbending. And, being unable to waterbend, you'll be at a distinct disadvantage. One of my young men has volunteered to travel with you and teach you some of the basics so as to prepare you."

Hikoshu fought back the urge to balk. She was sending a custodian? A spy? He intended to do this alone, but Inuma seemed to suspect that he either wasn't capable or wouldn't keep his word.

Again, he bowed, if a bit more forced this time. "Chieftess Inuma, though I appreciate the offer, I would rather not put any more of your people at risk."

"You would refuse this man the honor of aiding in the rescue of his betrothed?" Inuma said, and the waterbender grinned wryly. "Natquik here has volunteered to teach you, but his primary interest is in bringing back my daughter. A goal surely you both have in mind."

Hikoshu could have continued to protest, but at that point, it would have become a personal affront to Inuma and her family. He'd already pushed it as much as he could. In silent resignation, he nodded graciously, all the while imagining how to get rid of the man at the Air Temple. As he considered the plan, he felt a gentle squeeze of his elbow through his coat, and he glanced over at Miyo. She didn't look at him, though he recognized – and appreciated – the quiet support she had given.

"Master Avatar," the swarthy young man said, making a deep bow. "It would be an honor to be your tutor and companion, if only for a little while. Please allow me to accompany you and help rescue our tribesmen." As he bowed, the crowd at the canal burst into cheers, and startled, both Hikoshu and Miyo turned toward the sight-seers. The men not yet returned from the hunting season, the audience was made mostly of women and children. And, apparently, they were quite fond of the waterbender Natquik.

Slowly, Hikoshu looked away from them. "We would be grateful for any help the Northern Water Tribe might offer us." That didn't garner much applause. Or any.

There wasn't really anything else to be said. A few awkward farewells, with Natquik humbly saying good-bye to his group of well-wishers, and they prepared to leave. Chian had to coax Rosma into letting the waterbender on his back, though the bison protested the entire time. How she had convinced Rosma to take them without her, Hikoshu doubted he could understand. But with a little more reassurance and a few gentle words in a tone she had never used on Hikoshu, she managed to calm Rosma down enough for Miyo to seat herself on his neck.

"Don't hurt my bison," Chian said in a deadly voice as she pinned Miyo with a glare. She then glanced back at Hikoshu inside the saddle. "Remember; Elder Palnam. And don't be so foolish that you get yourself captured."

"We'll be back for you in a few weeks," Hikoshu said, randomly guessing a time. It would probably take longer; Chian had said the Air Temple was at least two days from the North Pole. But giving her a date made it feel more certain that he might actually come back.

He only had enough time to take one last look at the frozen city before Miyo uttered a short command – a clipped '_fra'_ noise– and the bison groaned sourly as it pushed off the ground. Swallowing back his stomach, he grabbed hold of the saddle and closed his eyes as the sounds of people faded away below them. By the time he could look again, the world was nothing but a clear, endless blue.


	19. The Waterbender

**Chapter 18 - The Waterbender**

* * *

Miyo stared ahead dully, her mind as empty as the strait below them. Rosma's soft, thick fur tickled at her legs as the wind whipped over them both, and she was lost on a sea of memory. She'd never had her own bison; they were sacred animals, preserved for a chosen few who were lucky enough to become bison riders. She didn't understand the selection process and only knew that it happened when airbenders were children. Yet she also remembered the pain she felt when they'd passed her over for such an honor, and how they had lectured her about attachment.

Still, every nun knew how to fly a bison to some degree. And though she could never feel the bond that Chian had with Rosma, she still felt some connection to the creatures that had taught her people how to fly.

Being on top of the bison was the most natural sensation in the world. Clouds and sky floating past her, while the land below skated along at a dizzying speed. She felt normal when she was riding so high up, where the air was thin yet refreshing. Where she was free, unbound by earth or gravity. There was nothing more fulfilling than a life beyond the mountain peaks.

The faint sounds of other humans drew her out of her reverie and back to the harsh reality behind her. With a weary frown, she set down the reins so she could peek over the saddle at the two men currently staring each other down. Hikoshu sat at her back, and directly across from him was the waterbender Natquik, who had said nothing since they'd taken off. It was an uncomfortable silence that had dragged on for far too long, continuously pulling her out of her thoughts. Holding back a sigh, she left Rosma to his own lead and climbed into the saddle next to Hikoshu.

He shot her a reassuring look – probably the twelfth one he'd given her that day, despite her protests that she was fine – and immediately went back to staring. Natquik, now with a new person to look at, shifted his gaze to her, naked hands shoved into the pockets of his waterbender coat. The coat was particularly interesting for its design, which marked him as an apprentice waterbender. If he became a Shaman, his coat would also change. The white fur would be removed and replaced with the fur of a tiger-seal, hanging as three long fringes from the base of his neck. It would signify that he was a waterbending master – a man qualified to maintain the spirituality of the city and to pass on his skill.

That is, if he ever became a Shaman. Very few did, and if he intended to marry the Chief's daughter, it was even less likely. As a waterbender, he could never inherit the title of Chief. But he still had duties as a consort that would keep him more enmeshed in the physical world of the Water Tribe than the spiritual one.

He would at least be popular with his people, even if he wouldn't be their Chief. Miyo thought back to the mass of cheering women that had gathered just to vocalize their affection for him. Really, she didn't understand what that had been about. He must have a charming personality, though he'd shown nothing of it. Unless slouching and staring happened to be the 'charming' part. And while he was handsome – very handsome, actually, in a Water Tribe kind of way – he was still either far too old or far too young for most of the women there. So Miyo studied him quietly, looking for something endearing in those high cheekbones, those icy blue eyes, that sharp chin, or the black hair swept partially back in a knot high on his head, the rest cascading around his darkly-hued skin.

She shook her head, admonishing herself vehemently, and snapped her gaze to the center of the saddle. It was wrong to pay attention to such details. Hadn't she gotten in trouble once before for doing the same to Hikoshu? Attraction led to distraction, she repeated silently, and straying from the Path. Besides, he wasn't all that attractive. She was just acknowledging that someone might find him attractive who wasn't an ordained nun. That was perfectly acceptable.

"So." She cleared her throat, noticing with some embarrassment how unused her voice sounded. "Your name's Natquik?" He blinked at her, surprised at someone actually speaking, and she realized that he had very thick eyelashes.

"That's right," he said, finally straightening himself into a more conversational position. "They didn't tell me your name, though."

"Miyo," she said with a smile, oddly pleased that he was actually responding in a friendly manner. If they were going to be with each other for weeks, they couldn't possibly keep silent the entire way. It would drive her mad, at some point. "I'm an Air Nun." He nodded, staring at her expectantly, and she almost blushed at how obvious she was being. Of course, she was an Air Nun. It wasn't as if random tattooed women walked around wearing airbender robes.

Hikoshu had also noted her strange behavior and gave her a perplexed look. Carefully, he unfolded his arms from around his chest. "Miyo's a nun from the Western Air Temple. Have you ever been there?" He sounded a little defensive, and Miyo eyed him apprehensively. Natquik must have heard it, too; he arched an eyebrow, then casually rubbed at his neck.

"I've traveled the Moqui Strait with my betrothed a few times. And I've probably seen the Cloudless Isles from the boat, I'm sure."

"Your betrothed," Miyo said quickly, interrupting Hikoshu's next question. "You mean the Princess Sahani." Natquik shifted his gaze back to her and nodded slowly. "When were you two engaged?"

He scratched at his chin with the edge of his thumb, then shrugged. "I don't remember. When she was born, I suppose. I was probably ten or so."

"You were ten?" Hikoshu repeated, folding his arms over his chest again. Miyo couldn't tell if he did it to look more intimidating, or if he was just cold. Despite the heavy blue coat he wore, Hikoshu tended to get cold very quickly when he stopped paying attention. Though she had no right to comment; she was far less capable of staying warm than she'd assumed. Forcefully, she pushed the last week to the back of her mind.

Hikoshu continued, his tone still suspicious. "That would make you, what? Four or five years older than us?" Natquik shrugged again, giving him a lopsided grin that revealed two separate dimples in a way that was particularly endearing. So that must've been what had all the women crazy about him. She felt satisfied in discovering his most attractive feature while remaining completely disconnected.

"You must really love her, to want to travel halfway across the world just to save her," Miyo said, the idea awakening a romantic spirit inside her. Despite her best attempts to remain detached, she still loved a good romance. And the idea of saving a kidnapped lover was the epitome of such a thing.

He turned that lopsided grin on her, reaffirming her belief that those dimples were in fact his most charming feature. "To be completely honest? I'm actually just happy to get away for a while."

That immediately killed the romance. "What?"

"I don't much care for the Northern Water Tribe."

Hikoshu and Miyo exchanged an identical look of skepticism and sudden doubt. Yet Hikoshu was the first to put it into words. "You're not here to save your tribesmen?"

Natquik finally moved for the first time in an hour, shifting so that he could look over the edge of the saddle. By telling them his real motivation, he must have felt the uneasy atmosphere was broken and he was free to do as he wished. With an elation that made him positively beam, he stared at the strait far below them.

As he watched the waters rush by, he answered their question. "No, I want to save Sahani. But I thought I'd be open with you on my full reasoning." Then he sat back, exhilarated, and pointed at the edge. "That's absolutely amazing. Who knew how blue the ocean looks from this high?" Miyo could see Hikoshu turn slightly green at the thought of it, though she was secretly happy there was someone else on this journey who actually enjoyed flying. "Anyway, I'm from the Southern tribe. I've just been relocated to North because of the betrothal."

"Then what about the promise to help Hikoshu?" Miyo pressed. "You're going to teach him waterbending, aren't you?" Hikoshu didn't seem to have the same level of concern, his brow pulled into a stern frown at Natquik. If there was one thing he hated, it was an ulterior motive, and Hikoshu was certainly doing his best to let their new companion know that.

"What? Oh, yes, of course," Natquik said distractedly, pulling his gaze away from the horizon. "You know, Chieftainess Inuma didn't say anything about it, but I'm actually the strongest waterbender at the North Pole." He winked at Miyo. She drew back uncertainly, his gesture feeling just a little odd to her.

"Really," Hikoshu said, his tone indicating that he had a hard time believing the boast. "Stronger than the Water Shamans?"

"Handily." He held up a finger as if that made his point. "Water Shamans have nothing on me, in terms of strength of bending. And I'm here to teach you everything you need to know."

"Then why aren't you a Shaman yet, if you're so strong?" Miyo scooted closer to Hikoshu, half-consciously taking his side on this issue. The man was being very deceptive and just a little too charming. Or maybe that was just those dimples. Which he flashed at her again.

"Please, allow me to demonstrate." He looked at the sky, above and around, and continued to do so for a good length of time. Both Hikoshu and Miyo stared, probably wondering the same thing. Yet he didn't say a word of explanation. He kept scanning the sky as he searched for something.

"I get it," Hikoshu said dryly, arms still folded over his chest. "You're a powerful headbender." Miyo stifled a laugh and elbowed him squarely in the ribs. For once, Hikoshu grinned.

Natquik didn't seem to react to the quip, still searching for _something_. Then, with a sudden epiphany, he stood up, hand firmly clutching the saddle until he was sure he would keep his balance. He had no reason to worry – Rosma's magnificent airbending kept everyone from losing their balance, the rhythmic sway of his six legs the only disturbance to the platform.

Natquik paused for a moment, then shifted his weight to one foot, drawing his arms in the same direction. The moves were very similar to those used by the waterbenders who had so quickly captured her, and she shuddered watching them performed in front of her. He swung his arms about his body, constantly following his weight as he moved from one foot to the other, his eyes scanning the sky once more. Where the original waterbenders had been rough, their techniques lightning-quick, Natquik was smooth, allowing each step to flow into the next. It was almost like a dance, and despite the anxiety building in her chest, Miyo also felt soothed in watching him.

Hikoshu gave her a nudge, pulling her attention away from the waterbender, and motioned with his head to look above them. The sky was growing darker, and Miyo suddenly saw clouds where there had been none before. They gathered above the bison in a heaving mass, rolling around under Natquik's control, turning grayer as they became far more threatening.

"He's going to make it rain?" Miyo whispered in awe, incredulous. There hadn't been a decent rain in nearly a year, and this young waterbender standing before them was about to make it do just that. It was almost a miracle – a feat of waterbending that would require skill and strength nearly equal to that of the Avatar. She pushed herself to her knees and watched in anticipation at the clouds boiled, the sight both terrifying and exciting at the same time.

And then, just as suddenly, the clouds broke up. Natquik grinned at them as he ceased moving, and sat back down with an almost delighted air. "I'm just messing around. I can't really do that."

They both stared at him, agape and speechless. It was Hikoshu who finally found the words, his anger rising to match his disbelief. "You can't do that? Then what was _that_ you just did?"

"What, pull some clouds around? It's pretty neat, huh?" He was almost entirely flippant about the situation. Miyo still had her mouth open, still not exactly sure what had just happened. "But I think just about any waterbender could do that with minimal talent. Do you want to learn?"

"But what about making it rain?" Miyo managed, feeling slightly childish for asking and more than a little cheated. She had really hoped it would. It would've been the answer to a lot of desperate prayers. "It looked like those clouds were going to pour."

"Rain? No, that's far too advanced. You'd have to be pretty talented to do something like that." He gave Hikoshu a conspiratory wink, though Hikoshu was obviously less than amused. "But they did look pretty convincing, didn't they?"

"So you were lying about the whole 'powerful waterbender' story, weren't you?" Hikoshu's brow was furrowed in a glare, and Miyo realized that it'd be unlikely the boys would get along very well from now on. With a disappointed sigh, she fell back onto the balls of her feet.

Natquik scoffed at the accusation. "I never lie. Certainly not about something like that. I _am_ the most powerful waterbender. I was just demonstrating why I'm not a Water Shaman." He scooted lower in the saddle, crossing his arms behind his head as he reclined against them. "Really, my strength lies in healing. But I didn't think either of you would want a demonstration of that ability."

"You're the strongest waterbender…but all you can do is heal people really well?" Hikoshu was sarcastic, arching an eyebrow at him. "How is that a measurable skill at all?"

"Well, I can show you, if you really want me." Moving faster than Miyo could react, Natquik reached under his coat and produced a knife. A very _large_ knife, which he twisted in his palm menacingly. Hikoshu pushed himself up almost as quickly, his fists raised at the sight of the weapon.

"Wait, stop!" Miyo shouted, grabbing Hikoshu's arm as she put herself bodily between the men. "Are you two _insane_? You're going to scare Rosma!" She held up a hand toward Natquik, preparing to airbend if he tried anything else. Under them, Rosma plaintively groaned as he sensed the building forces of energy.

Natquik stared at her innocently, slowly resheathing his knife somewhere under his coat. "I wasn't going to kill anyone. After all, I can't heal dead people…" He trailed off sullenly, folding his arms behind his head once more.

Miyo realized her heart was hammering as she looked back to Hikoshu, her hand sweating where she held his arm. He was wearing a firm glower as he pulled away from her and settled back into the saddle, his arms again across his chest.

"Now," slowly she relaxed her guard, glancing between them both warily as she moved toward Rosma's head, "I'm going to guide the bison, and you two are going to get along. Alright? Set aside your 'manly' differences for a day or so." Carefully, she crawled over the saddle and reclaimed the reins. And they went back to staring at each other. Great. Just wonderful. That did no good at all.

She sighed, rubbing hard at her temple as she tried once more to concentrate on which direction they were headed. It was difficult enough being around someone as egotistical as Hikoshu, but now it seemed he had some competition. And she wasn't sure how she could survive two of them.

The day passed just like that; as the sun set, still no one was talking and each person dwelled in their respective thoughts. Hikoshu sat like a sentinel above and behind her, his eyes on Natquik the entire time. When the moon rose over the horizon, hidden in a cloud cover that appeared from the east, Hikoshu finally attempted some conversation with her.

It wasn't so much a conversation, though, as it was a short command. "Let me take over while you sleep."

Miyo slumped at his order, her back to him so that he missed her expression. "I can handle this, Hikoshu. I know how to fly Rosma. Besides, you'd probably just faint and fall off." Rosma added his agreement, his baritone growl rattling the saddle. Hikoshu obviously wanted to argue, but she was right. And she wasn't going to stand for a debate. Silently giving in, he sat back in the saddle once more.

He stayed awake for a long time. Probably watching out for her, to make sure she didn't fall asleep or perhaps that Natquik didn't try anything. The moon had moved to its zenith before she heard his familiar snores rising above the low-pitched moan of the wind. Given half the chance, and the slightest encouragement, the man could fall asleep during anything. But the sound of him sleeping was comforting – something that hailed from a more peaceful time – and she settled into Rosma's fur as Hikoshu noisily enjoyed his rest.

She didn't know how long she flew in that state before being pulled abruptly from it. The sensation of a hand on her shoulder almost startled her into reaction, and she snapped her head back to see the dark figure of Natquik hovering behind her. He looked uncertainly at Hikoshu's sleeping figure – which had by then sunk so low into the saddle that Miyo could no longer see him – and gestured to join her up front.

Miyo didn't know if Rosma would approve of that, but a little desirous of some company, she decided to forego asking and scooted over for him. Quietly, he climbed over the saddle and down onto the bison's neck. Rosma made no protest, perhaps still in the same meditative state that Miyo had just been pulled from. And Natquik didn't seem to realize there was any issue at all, his body hanging rather precariously over the side of Rosma's neck so he could stare at the ocean.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, breaking the odd silence. She had to keep her voice low for Hikoshu, but at the same time, she had to speak above the wind. The result was a husky, yet nasally, murmur that sounded far from natural.

"I can't believe you get to see this all the time." Natquik apparently didn't have the same reservations about waking up Hikoshu, and he spoke normally as he turned, delighted, back to her. "I mean, obviously, there's not much to see in the dark. But the way the moon hits the water? Or how clear the stars are from up here?"

"Yeah. I like it, too." She was grinning. Hearing him tell her all those sights that had long ago become commonplace was like seeing them for the first time. Especially with the joy written in his face.

"I bet I would've made a pretty good airbender," he said, examining Rosma's fur with his fingers. Miyo looked at him askance, setting the reins in her lap.

"And sacrificed all those fawning women back there? There aren't many adoring crowds following monks around."

Natquik screwed his mouth into an unhappy purse, actually looking disappointed. "I guess there's a sacrifice, no matter what you do."

"I guess there is."

The conversation died, Natquik in his own thoughts and Miyo brooding on hers. She had always thought that waterbender healers were kindly old women who had withdrawn from society for the purpose of learning to save people. True, she'd known better – known that there were men healers, though less common and usually far less talented. But she hadn't been around many men other than the monks, who often seemed like old ladies themselves. So the thought of elderly widows hobbling from one ice hut to another, using their gifts for the benefit of others, always lingered in her mind.

She didn't imagine a healer to be _this_. Glancing to her right, she saw that Natquik had bent over the bison again, the wind ruffling the fur lining of his parka. It was about all that she could see; the moonlight disappeared against his skin, almost as if a shadow wore his coat.

His careless movements must have tickled Rosma somehow; the bison started to shake his head, and Miyo had to grab the back of Natquik's jacket to keep him from falling. He threw her a grateful look as he straightened on the Rosma's neck, finally deciding to be a little less curious.

"Well, you almost turned into an airbender there for a moment." She smirked, taking up Rosma's reins once more to reassure the bison. Natquik gave her a wry grin.

"Without the benefit of actually being able to airbend." He folded his arms over his legs and rested his chin on his knees, turning his head so that he could watch Miyo. Immediately, she felt herself grow self-conscious under his stare. "I've never met an Air Nomad before."

"Quite a first time," she said facetiously, holding Rosma's reins tighter.

"What do your tattoos mean? They look a lot like the bison's markings." He brushed his hand along the dark stripe in Rosma's fur, which eventually terminated in the shape of an arrow near his eyes. And Miyo grew even more self-conscious through the observation.

"You don't know about airbender tattoos?" She couldn't explain something like this to him. It was far too complicated, far too involved. "They're a symbol of our spirituality. They're a reminder that we owe everything we have gained to the flying bison, who gave us the first steps toward losing our shackles to the earth. They represent freedom from the world, as well as our part in it."

"So is it really true that you only live in temples with other women?" He asked, giving no indication he even heard the explanation she thought she had so eloquently delivered. Miyo frowned at him and noted his attention span might even be shorter than that of Hikoshu's.

"Nuns live exclusively in the Eastern and Western Temples. We're segregated at a really young age, whenever our tribes-members discover our latent ability to bend."

As she said this, Natquik suddenly brightened, raising his head. "That's right, the nomadic tribes. Are they like the Water Tribes?"

"Not really, no. They're…nomads." Was there any better way to explain her people? "They live in small groups made mostly of family members."

"But so does the Southern Water Tribe," he protested, unfolding his legs and gesturing toward the southern horizon with an ungloved hand. "We also live with our kinsmen."

"You live with _all_ of your kinsmen." She sighed and dropped the reins once more in order to explain. "The Southern Water Tribe has clans, descended from their totem, right? And these clans are pretty large. True, you're all kinsmen, but still, they're large. _Really_ large, in fact." He nodded, still following. "Well, Air Nomads live in much smaller groups." She used her hands, creating a circle with her fingers to indicate how small. "Think about if you only considered the descendents of your grandmother as your family line."

He stared at her, his expression blank. Miyo waited patiently for the idea to sink in, but – realizing quickly that it wouldn't – she threw up her hands in surrender. "It's complicated!"

"It's absurd," he corrected, still wearing that blank look. "How can your grandmother be the head of your line? It would imply _she_ didn't have a grandmother."

"Well, how can a walrus-bear be the head of _your_ line? How can anything that's not a person give birth to one?" She immediately regretted saying that. It made a mockery of his entire culture, and indeed, Natquik didn't seem pleased with the none-too-subtle jab. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," he said coolly, resting his chin on his arms once more. "Insinuating I might be from the walrus-bear clan. I wouldn't even trade koala-otter pelts with those people." Miyo blinked, stunned. But he turned his head in order to give her a wink, grinning softly, and she finally got the joke.

"Funny. Very funny." She laughed, ducking her head so that her hair hid her smile. "Nothing I like more than being teased."

"You have a very pretty laugh, Miyo."

Her laughter stopped at that comment, and she looked up at him, slightly appalled. He was smiling in that charming manner of his. Far too charming. Her back went rigid as she picked up the reins again, facing straight ahead.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry." And he actually did sound apologetic, as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Contrary to what it sounds like, I'm just being friendly."

"After all, you have Sahani." She started to relax. Maybe she did react a little fast. He was just a nice person.

"And you have the Avatar." He waved vaguely back toward the snoring saddle. Miyo followed his gesture, then gave a short laugh.

"Hikoshu? Wait. You think Hikoshu and I…?"

It was Natquik's turn to look confused and a little embarrassed. "Well, I can't think of another reason he's so hostile toward me…" He trailed off as she laughed again, and she attempted to hide her mirth in her hand.

"Perhaps because you're a strange person forced on him, and he has no reason to trust you yet?" Miyo offered helpfully, shooting him an amused look. His expression began to grow sullen, but just as quickly, it disappeared and he was laughing, as well.

"I guess drawing a knife on him was a bad idea, then."

The humor faded, and they settled into a comfortable quiet, Natquik leaning against the bison in order to watch the stars as Miyo picked at the fibers that made up the reins. Feeling the sudden need to explain further, she said into the silence, "Air Nuns aren't supposed to have anything to do with men. That's why we're segregated…to prevent distraction." Again, she immediately regretted the comment. It'd seemed like a good idea at the time – telling him why it had nothing to do with Hikoshu.

He turned his head to study her, his arms cradled under his neck, and her cheeks grew warm. This was utterly ridiculous, and she had half a mind to tell him so. But instead, she busied herself with picking at the reins, her eyes trained on the rope.

"So, technically, I'm the only man you've ever talked to?"

Startled, she glanced over at him, but his face was sincere, completely devoid of mockery or derision. "Well, I've talked to Hikoshu, of course. And I've talked to Air Monks. And a lot of Earth Kingdom officials."

"I meant _actually_ talked to. Not any of those diplomatic, official interactions." He wrinkled his nose at the thought and looked back up at the stars. "Those don't count."

"Well, Hikoshu, still," she said, and her sentence was punctuated by a snore from the subject of conversation. "We talk all the time."

"Best friends don't count, either."

"If everyone _but_ you doesn't count, then yes, I suppose you are the only man I've ever talked to." She bridled at the argument. Natquik looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and grinned wryly.

"Then I guess I'm already ahead of the competition." He then pushed himself up lithely and climbed back into the saddle. She was still trying to puzzle through the cryptic comment when he stuck his head over the saddle lip, adding, "And that time, I _was_ flirting with you."

The night was very cold – freezing even – but for Miyo, at that moment, it was unbearably hot.


	20. Reunions

**Chapter 19 - Reunions**

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"Father?" Yan-lin pushed open the door, its sound echoing through the small chamber on the other side. In the shadows, she couldn't see much more than a window in the opposite wall.

The problem was solved a moment later as her eyes adjusted to the dark, and as a fire caught in the fireplace to her left, throwing the entire room in stark relief.

The towering silhouette of her father partially blocked the light as he turned to face her. "It's amazing how sophisticated the heating systems of the North are. They don't even need wood here." She could see exactly what he meant. There weren't any logs on the fire; just two rows of thin bamboo shoots, from which a dozen flames of light danced. But the legendary fire caves of the Northern Air Temple were well-known throughout the world, as well as the monks' ability to harness them.

Her father watched her for a moment more, the light casting an anonymous shadow across his face, and she wondered if perhaps he'd grown a beard since last she saw him. "Did you just arrive?"

"Travel by ostrich-horse is unreliable at this time of year," she said hesitantly, pushing the door shut behind her. "I came as soon as I could." Then, with an uncertain look around the small chamber, "Why did you want me to meet you here?"

"The Avatar is in the North Pole with two airbenders. As per your own report, Yan-lin," Gi-Luon said as he moved across the room, his large frame brushing past her in the close space. He pulled open a small storage cabinet along the adjacent wall, his body disappearing behind the ornately carved wood. "I assume if, in fact, he leaves the Water Tribe as designed," Gi-Luon emerged from the cabinet holding two cups, which he took back to the fire, "he will make a stop here with the airbenders."

"That's a large assumption," she ventured, and watched as he poured tea from a plain tin pot, his eloquent court-trained manner at odds with the commoner's vessel. "Even if the Avatar decides to stop here, which is unlikely, you would have never traveled fast enough to reach this Temple before me. You were here for another reason?"

He smiled, the fine green silks of his leisure robes rustling as he handed her a cup, which she accepted without even looking at it. "Astute. You act more like your mother every day." The statement made her grimace, almost as much as the sour taste of the high mountain tea. "Yes, I was already on my way here when your reports reached me." He finished his drink faster than she, which was probably wise given its flavor. "I was actually heading for the Northern Water Tribe. At a time like this, I thought extending Omashu's aid to the Chieftess would look favorable on our nation."

"Even before the abductions have been made public knowledge?" Yan-lin quirked her eyebrows at him, which made his smile turn indulgent.

"I was planning to stay here until they were."

"Then what excuses have you given Elder Kundan for your stay?" She set the cup on top of the cabinet and dusted her hands. As always, Gi-Luon was looking for the best angle for Omashu. Even if it required siding individually with two opposing countries.

"Kundan doesn't care what we do here. He feels so threatened by the encroaching presence of Ba Sing Se, he welcomes talks with Omashu. Anyone who could distract Ba Sing Se from his Temple."

"Even the nation that's threatening the Air Nomads?"

Again, that indulgent smile, and she realized he _had_ grown out his beard, the line a thin circle around his mouth. "You must remember one thing about people, Yan-lin. If they feel threatened enough, they'll allow for anything that's not directly affecting them. Besides," he added dismissively as he retrieved an orange overrobe and shrugged it on, "Omashu helping the Northern Air Temple does not circumvent their protests of our actions in the South."

"Kundan seems about as unscrupulous as you," she said, rubbing her back. It'd been a long day of traveling on an ostrich-horse, and the bison ride to the summit had been equally unpleasant. She was dirty, still in the same travel robes she'd been wearing for a week, and tired. "Lucky you could find your match this far North."

"It helps that old fool Palnam is finally gone." She could detect a certain annoyance in his tone. Palnam, though old and pointless, had been a thorn in Omashu's side for decades. Freed from his specific responsibilities to the Northern Air Temple, the monk had spent nearly all of his time in the Patola Mountains to the South, interfering with Omashu's politics there, disrupting plans for Air Nomad relocation. He'd been a staunch opponent to any of King Du Gong's decrees.

Though, Yan-lin knew, Gi-Luon would miss the challenge. Nothing delighted him more than head-to-head combat. He excelled at politics, but he was even more ingenious at battle strategy.

"I'm sure you've sent the Southern Temple your condolences," she noted sarcastically, folding her arms under her breasts. "So you're here under the pretense of opening diplomatic channels to this Air Temple. What excuse has Ba Sing Se been given?"

"Ba Sing Se still thinks I'm in the Si Wong region, plotting for their quick removal from the area. By the time news reaches them that I've moved, I'll have already moved again." And suddenly, the floor erupted behind him – a white stone stool on which he absently sat. Yan-lin imagined that the monks would not be pleased. "Believe me, Kundan wants complete discretion about my presence. Whatever it takes to avoid attention on this mountain range."

"Alright, then." She held up her fingers to count off the different duplicities under way. "You're telling Kundan that you're here to discuss a possible alliance, you've convinced Ba Sing Se you're still in the conflict zone, and you're on your way to console a Water Tribe that doesn't even yet realize you were the mastermind behind the very kidnapping you'll console them on. All the while, you're lying to your cohorts in the Fire Nation, who believe you will give them aid against any retaliation from the Northern Water Tribe, by offering your aid to the Northern Water Tribe instead. And _now_ you want to involve the Avatar?"

He wrinkled his brow in mock wonderment. "When you put it that way, it sounds quite impressive."

"What do you want with me? You know how much I hate being involved in these kinds of games." Yan-lin suppressed a sigh of impatience. Like everyone else, she was just another tile on Gi-Luon's Pai Sho table. The only difference was that she could see the entire board.

"Could a father not just miss his daughter? I haven't seen you in seven months."

"A father could, but you don't." She pinned him with a hard frown – the same hard frown he often wore with other dignitaries. "You want me for something, and it must be pretty important to drag me out of the Northwest Territory."

The Northwest Territory. A place she'd been half-abandoned in. She knew she'd been put there to keep her out of Gi-Luon's way until he needed her. She also knew she was a front for the government in Ba Sing Se.

Still, she loved her position. There were no politics to play beyond a local level, and she never had to do much more than make appearances and smile. Perhaps it was dull at times, but at least there were no expectations. No obligations.

Gi-Luon frowned at her rude snubbing of his paternal duty. Even if he hadn't been much of a father in the past several years, he still demanded total respect and submission from his daughter. And Yan-lin knew she came dangerously close to not giving that.

"The Avatar is most certainly on his way here. News came two days ago that Inuma had him in the North and would be releasing him and one of the airbenders."

"Reliable sources?"

"The Northern Water Tribe communicated with Kundan, who, of course, is holding me in confidence. I find no reason to doubt him." Air Nomads made the best informants, as they rarely ever lied. But they also rarely trusted anyone outside of their monasteries.

Yan-lin moved for the window, though there was very little to see. The mountains were shrouded in fog that looked blue under the moon, and the firelight created a bizarre contrast of red against the pale white stone of the walls.

"So you called me here for the Avatar."

"I need you to help me gain his trust," Gi-Luon said from behind her. "I've told Kundan about the Fire Nation's plan. I've told him what they intend to do to the Avatar. And I've also suggested to him the qu-dan."

Yan-lin's eyes flew wide at that name, and she turned toward Gi-Luon slowly. She could feel the blood rush from her face, feel the room grow very cold. But that was just the kind of fear the qu-dan inspired in her. Suddenly, she didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"What good is bringing the qu-dan in this?"

"You know how fruitless the efforts have been to uncover anything. Wan Shi Tong has been very vigilant in hiding his library, and the sandbenders aren't speaking. The Fire Nation has literally exhausted every idea for getting the information they want, and so have we." He assumed a pleading tone, shaking his tightly top-knotted head as he closed his eyes. It was a typical lie of his. She didn't believe his pleading for a moment.

"Are you out of ideas, or are you out of _convenient_ ones?" Perhaps she'd been too upfront. She could see his anger visibly rise, and as he stood, his figure seemed to grow larger in the firelight. He had never struck her, but the sensation still made her cower like a child.

"I don't understand you, Yan-lin. I raised you. I taught you everything I know. I've set you in a position of power that was more to your liking than any of the intrigues of the Omashu Court, and I am repaid with ingratitude? Do you have no honor for the spirits of your ancestors? Of your mother?" She felt shamed. He was right, of course; she owed him everything she had, especially her gratitude. And with a humble bow, she murmured an apology.

"Now." He calmed considerably at her acquiescence, his mind returning to the matter at hand. "The Avatar will be instructed to find the qu-dan. He will _need_ to go to the qu-dan. And being a fool, he probably doesn't know any better. But as we're both aware, there are only six people alive who know how to find her." He studied Yan-lin with a calculating look. "And two of them are in this room."

"You want me to find a way into the Avatar's confidence and take him there?" she summarized.

"Not just take him there. I want you there with him. I want you to be as close to him as a family member." He added not so eloquently, "Or more, if you like."

Yan-lin bowed her head again to break the eye contact and quell the frustration in her chest. It wasn't the first time he'd employed her feminine graces to his benefit; he'd been using them, and teaching her how to use them, since she was thirteen. Now at the age of seventeen, she'd become quite adept at it herself.

But sometimes, she wondered if her mother had ever done the same. Or if she would've approved of Gi-Luon asking the same of her.

Sometimes, she thought her mother probably would.

"Seduce the Avatar, accompany him to the qu-dan, garner the information you want." She rattled off the list of tasks, again using her fingers to count. "And?"

At her obedience, he gave her another indulgent, almost fatherly smile. "Get to Gaipan. I'll handle it from there."

**

* * *

A/N: **As creepy as it is to manipulate your own daughter's budding sexuality, Gi-Luon and Yan-lin actually don't have a creepy relationship. They have a very complicated relationship, more so than is implied in this chapter.

But I thought I'd clear that up for anyone getting weirded out.


	21. The Northern Air Temple

**Chapter 20 - The Northern Air Temple**

* * *

"My power is much like the tides."

"Your power kills unsuspecting jelly-clams in shallow pools?"

Natquik gave him an impish grin, thoroughly enjoying the quip far more than Hikoshu had intended, and pointed at the full moon hanging low in the sky.

"We both derive our strength from the moon. And, yes, I've been known to torture a few jelly-clams in my time."

Hikoshu stared at him flatly, then sighed as he rubbed his hands over his arms. The fur made it difficult for him to firebend for warmth, so he tried to concentrate on his body temperature instead. An airbender skill that he unfortunately still hadn't yet learned despite the cold.

"Have you ever noticed that when the moon is full or new, the tides are at their highest? But at the same time, they're also at—"

"At their lowest, I'm aware," he said with some impatience. "I've lived on an island."

Natquik was undeterred. He'd actually been deterred by very little since the preceding night. Hikoshu must have drifted off at some point, but when he woke up the next morning, cranky and sore from his first night on a bison in a week, Natquik's attitude had suddenly changed. Now he seemed almost determined to teach him waterbending. And no amount of overt hints of irritation would sway him from his course.

"Well, as the moon pulls at the oceans, creating the tides, so does it pull at our bending. Fortunately, though, it's a little more simplistic. We find we have more power when the moon is full and high above us, and less power when we can't see it." He demonstrated on the floating blob of water above his palm, using his other hand to drag it upward in a skinny column, only to squash it into a flat-cake moments later. The water was nearly translucent in the moon, reflecting pinpoints of light that shifted as it changed shape.

"You have moon powers, I get it." He was being surly. He knew he was being surly, but the fact that Natquik was suddenly no longer responding to it made him feel even surlier. What had happened to make him so friendly? How had he gone from coolly indifferent to happily enthusiastic in just one night? Unable to understand this waterbender and half-afraid he may like him in spite of it, Hikoshu folded his arms across his chest.

"But not just moon powers!" Again, he manipulated the water, causing it to spin in a circle above his fingers, its surface rippling as it moved. "This action defines our very ability to bend. We use our _chi_ to push and pull the water, directing it the same way that the moon directs the tides. So everything in waterbending comes down to those two _jings_ – those options." He stopped spinning it, allowing it to move on its own accord as he held his palm out to Hikoshu. "Here, try to take it."

Hikoshu didn't move. "What?"

"Take the water from me." He stretched his hand farther, the water twisting above his fingers. "Just call it to you. Feel your _chi_ and pull it, as if you were inhaling."

"I'm not going to take it." Hikoshu wasn't actually sure he could if he wanted to, but he had no desire to explain that. "One way or another, this ends with me being wet."

"It's just a handful of water!" Natquik protested, frowning in confusion and perhaps disappointment. "It's not even a decent cup of tundra beet tea."

"I don't want to call it."

"Just try! You have to learn sooner or later."

"Well, not on the back of a flying bison who is, in fact, flying."

"If you don't take it, I'm going to throw it at you."

"Fine!" Hikoshu glared – as strong a glare as he could muster, though Natquik's expression quickly changed from vague irritation to general amiability once he had given in. "Just give it here."

"Now, feel yourself pulling the water toward you," Natquik directed as Hikoshu held out his hands, palms downward, and leaned closer to the center in order to retrieve it. He imagined the water moving and drew his curled fingers away from Natquik, his mind beckoning for the swirling form to follow. There was the gentle build-up of _chi_, snaking along his arms as it tugged the water, and in response, the liquid rippled. In jerks and stops, its shape changed and hesitantly began toward him.

Everything went more or less smoothly until the bison abruptly took a nosedive.

Hikoshu gasped as his mind yanked back reflexively, and the water responded. With a death-grip on the saddle, hardly realizing the cold water seeping through his coat, he prepared to airbend himself out of the dropping bison. But just as quickly, Rosma leveled out, and then they were floating through the night sky.

"Sorry!" Miyo called out, her voice muffled behind the saddle. Hikoshu wasn't sure if she was apologizing to them or to the bison, who gave an offended groan in response. "The Air Temple's under us. I just needed a better look."

Miyo may have known how to fly a bison, but she still wasn't the best at controlling one. Rosma, though, had shown quickly that he was capable of controlling himself, fortunately for everyone in his saddle.

Relaxing his white-knuckled grip, Hikoshu slowly became aware of the frigid water that had crept past his clothes. Natquik shook his head and bended the water out of Hikoshu's coat, coalescing it into a globular form above his palm. He then directed it back into his waterbending skin.

"Maybe we should hold off until we've worked on your reflexes."

"Work on it later," Miyo said from the front. "We're about to land."

Hikoshu sighed as he twisted around, latching onto the saddle in preparation for the descent. No matter how many he went through, they all seemed equally horrible. And as Rosma began to tilt downward, Hikoshu firmly braced himself against the bamboo saddle.

Watching him curiously as he wrapped an arm around the edge, Natquik didn't seem to have nearly the same amount of concern. The descent became steeper, however, and Hikoshu was forced to close his eyes. Hiding his fear of flying from Natquik seemed impossible and, frankly, a little pointless by now.

"Oh, no," Miyo said in sudden dread, and Hikoshu felt his heart jump against his chest. Those words never preceded something good. He was frozen in place, unable to ask what the matter was. She obliged quickly, anyway. "The First Snow Prayers!"

But before Hikoshu's hammering heart could settle at that relatively innocuous comment, Rosma rumbled deeply and dropped out of the sky.

Or that's how it felt. One moment, the bison was under him, and the next moment, it was as if he himself were flying. Giving a cry of terror, he yanked hard against the saddle, and somewhere behind him, Natquik echoed his surprise. Rosma's dive was steep enough that there was barely anything to hold onto, and Hikoshu would've marveled that no one had been thrown out of the saddle.

That is, if he could think of anything beyond the wave of fear that swept at him. Abruptly, it changed its form, becoming a dark tide that swamped his mind with something akin to calm. And with effort, he forced the calm back, allowing himself to endure the fear.

"Miyo, pull up!" Natquik shouted, barely audible over the wind that had smashed through the bison's air barrier. It was unlikely Miyo could hear the protest, either, as Rosma continued his dangerous course.

And then, just as suddenly, it was over. Rosma leveled so quickly that Hikoshu was partially flattened against the saddle, giving a soft 'oof' as he smashed into the wood. The next moment Rosma was landing, and the final descent was so smooth that Hikoshu felt as if they had almost floated onto the bison point.

Even before Rosma's hairy paws thumped loudly on the rock, Miyo had jumped into the back of the saddle and retrieved her staff, packed far more carefully against accidental heaving than the passengers.

"Leave Rosma here, I'll send out a monk!" she shouted, breathless, as the staff sprouted wings. A second later, she was in the air, a whitish dot disappearing into the evening.

All Hikoshu could do was stare, his hand still painfully gripping the saddle.

"Do they, um…" Natquik began in a shaky voice, slowly pushing away from his perch. "Do airbenders often do that?"

"Only the crazy ones." Hikoshu swallowed hard. Then swallowed again. And, feeling a little more strength return to his limbs, he finally pushed himself out of the saddle. Despite the invisible chasm surrounding the point, he still felt a thousand times safer on solid rock. It allowed him to steady his unsteady legs.

When Natquik didn't immediately follow, he shouted back, "Aren't you coming?"

"A temple full of celibate monks who spend all their time praying," Natquik said, peering from the top of the bison. "Getting some sleep sounds a lot more fun."

"Suit yourself, but you'll be doing it in the stables." It would've been more amusing to let him find out the hard way, but somehow that just seemed cruel. Just like he'd predicted; Hikoshu was starting to like the man in spite of himself. "Rosma's heading there as soon as I leave." Rosma grumbled in agreement, the ground vibrating under his complaint.

There was a moment hesitation, and then his dark figure tumbled down, landing unceremoniously on the rocky bison point. He gave Hikoshu a wry grin as he pushed himself to his feet. "You're very persuasive. And bison sweat is very potent. Can't imagine how bad a stable of them would smell."

Hikoshu grinned involuntarily, and gestured toward the stone bridge that would take them to the Northern Air Temple. "Just go."

Every Temple, save perhaps the Eastern Air Temple, had the First Snow Prayers. They happened at different times for each, dictated only by first snowfall. But in previous years, when there had been no snowfall until late in the winter, the Western Temple had celebrated it at mid-Autumn. Just as the Northern Temple did right now, Hikoshu supposed. The jagged mountain peaks behind them were almost completely black, only a few patches of snow catching the moonlight. It was quite possible that those snowy spots were left over from the previous winter – that there had been no precipitation since then.

As they crossed the bridge, the massive walls of the Northern Temple rose sharply above them, a grayish silhouette that blocked the stars. It would be a long climb to get to the main sanctuary, where most monks would be tonight, and Hikoshu wasn't even sure if he could find the way. He'd never been there, after all. And its layout hardly resembled the Western Air Temple.

"Couldn't you have flown?" Natquik asked as they entered the portal carved through the wall, green lacquered tiles glinting high above them. The corridor immediately turned dark, and Hikoshu produced a flame in his hand.

"Using what?" His voice rang hollowly against the tall ceiling, and the light cast an odd orange glow on the narrow walls of the hall, the halo highlighting gray patterns across their surface. "I don't have a glider."

"Well, why don't you?" Beside him, Natquik watched the walls intently. He almost stumbled back into Hikoshu as a recessed bison statue suddenly jumped into relief.

"I don't like them," Hikoshu muttered dryly, elbowing him away. Natquik gave him a sheepish look and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. The conversation died.

The path ahead gave only one choice, terminating in a spiral stairwell. They climbed it quietly, passing doors that let out onto other corridors that in turn ended in a dark oblivion. Occasionally, the wall of the staircase was broken by windows, and as these swept by, they caught glimpses of clouds or moon-cast mountains. Nothing else interrupted the monotony of their small orange circle, save for their heavy footfalls.

Natquik was the first to speak, clearing his throat gently. The stone augmented and changed the noise, throwing it back from all directions. "So, about Miyo. She seems like a nice girl."

"She's a nun. Don't think about it."

"Think about what?" The young waterbender gave him the most innocent expression he could muster, and with those wide blue eyes, he actually looked pretty guileless. Hikoshu shook his head and moved the flame to his other hand.

"Just believe me, from experience. Don't think about it."

The staircase eventually ended at a corridor, one that stretched endlessly both left and right. As they stepped out into the hallway, a sharp breeze brushed past them, and Hikoshu realized the wall directly in front of them was not actually a wall. In fact, that entire side of the new corridor was open, forming a veranda that looked out on the main structures of the Temple. The wind extinguished his flame, and for a moment, they were left in the dark.

"I see fires," Natquik murmured and stepped to the open walkway. Hikoshu followed, spying immediately what he meant. Somewhere, not too far below, the courtyard in front of what was likely the main sanctuary was lit brightly with torches. He could barely make out the figures of people – probably monks, giving devotions. With a frown, he tugged on Natquik's arm, directing him to move.

"That's where we're headed."

The open corridor curved so subtly around the Temple that Hikoshu only knew they had changed directions from an occasional glance at the court below. Periodically, as they encountered new buildings or spires, a door opening into a new stairwell would appear. These were the only features they saw that deviated from the giant circle they seemed to be walking. After some time, even Hikoshu began to doubt they'd find their way down.

But he had walked the halls of the Western Air Temple enough to know there was always a way on foot. And eventually, proving him right, the corridor ended in a building that opened onto more stairs. Using glimpses of firelight out the windows to guide them, he took them through two more buildings and five more stairwells. And by the time they managed to find the main sanctuary, its open chamber dominated by an enormous bison statue, Natquik was stifling yawns.

The entire chamber was lit with fires – a rare situation that only occurred during late autumn and early winter rituals. And while he was used to the same tradition at the Western Air Temple, this scene was far different. Instead of rows of torches, there were rows of bamboo, running from the stone walls. And from each bamboo shoot was one, individual flame.

It was bizarre, more closely resembling a Fire Temple than an Air Temple. But it was also comforting, his nerves soothed by the golden light. Natquik didn't share in his joy, growing visibly uneasy as they walked in between the rows of bamboo. And he didn't calm at all until they were in the narrow hallway that led to the courtyard.

Hikoshu's eyes hadn't even had time to adjust from the dark tunnel to the well-lit court when a monk stepped in front him and bowed deeply, blocking their way. He drew back in surprise, knocking into Natquik, who had been watching the congregation of monks beyond the hall rather than Hikoshu.

"Master Avatar," the orange-robed teen murmured, still bent at the waist. Hikoshu noted his bald head lacked an arrow, indicating the boy was still just a novice and likely excluded from this session of the prayers. "Elder Kundan has been informed of your arrival and wishes to speak to you."

"Kundan?" He glanced around the open court, as if he would be able to recognize the Elder immediately on sight. But the concentric lines of seated monks, their feet folded on top of their knees, looked identical. Every brow and head was smooth, shining above eyes closed in prayer, oblivious to all outside distraction.

"Yes, Master Avatar." And, perhaps catching Hikoshu's searching gaze, he added, "In the Lotus Hall. I've been asked to take you there."

Surprised, Hikoshu glanced at the boy's lowered head. Surely the Elder had been participating in the meditation rituals. And if that were true, then he had to have left early specifically for the purposes of speaking to him. The matter had to be urgent, in that case. But at the same time, Hikoshu recalled Chian's instructions. _Speak to no one but Palnam_.

He turned back to a deflated Natquik, whose attention was on the ordered lines of monks. "Will you be alright on your own for a while?"

He looked up unenthusiastically at Hikoshu's voice. "Oh? Yeah, sure. I can find something to do, probably."

Good enough for Hikoshu. Natquik was unlikely to cause an outrage, and he wouldn't be gone that long anyway. Signaling for the young airbender to lead the way, he brushed past Natquik and back into the depths of the Temple.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The Lotus Hall was aptly named. The corridor was decorated with delicate lotus blossoms, the petals as long as Hikoshu's arm. They curled along the walls and around the high-set windows near the ceiling, their stems jutting out in the form of ornate lamp brackets, their fires casting a dim glow on the art.

It was beautiful, but almost excessive – or at least excessive for an Air Nomad temple. There were only a few instances where airbenders would go to such lengths to draw attention to the architecture: when it held religious significance, or when it would be viewed by a non-airbender. Hikoshu was uncertain which instance garnered such effort in this hall.

The door at the end had a simple Air Lock on it, one easily opened by all but the most novice airbenders. In such a situation, the lock was merely a formality; a signal to someone on the outside that there might be someone on the inside who wished privacy. Accordingly, the novice knocked.

Hikoshu didn't notice any response, but the novice must have received some alert. A moment later, he pushed the door open, the air lock already disengaged, and motioned for Hikoshu to enter. The airbender bowed deeply before departing, shutting the door behind him.

The room itself was small. Uncomfortably small, actually, though mostly bare. There was a fireplace opposite the door, set in the round wall that formed the circular room, a teapot hanging on a hook over the thin bamboo strips that burned in place of logs. The shadows they created made the room feel even smaller, and the heat sunk through his coat. But it was rejuvenating, particularly after so many weeks of _cold_, and he welcomed it.

In addition to the sparse furnishings, the room was also filled with smoke, though it didn't smell of wood. Instead, it had the distinct odor of jasmine incense, almost overwhelming in its aroma.

"Avatar, welcome." Hikoshu glanced to his left and saw that the room was in fact not perfectly round. Sitting in a shallow recess was a life-size statue of a monk, his serene face staring past his cupped hands to the floor below. There, under him, sat the figure of an identical, orange-robed monk, his back to Hikoshu. As he spoke, he turned his head, and Hikoshu could make out stern features over a thick white mustache.

"I'm sorry I didn't greet you at your arrival. I usually leave the First Snow Prayers to meditate alone at this time." He patted the bamboo mat, signaling for Hikoshu to join him. "There aren't many places to sit in here, so please, make yourself comfortable."

He didn't think that'd be possible; Chian's words already had him on edge, and there was an indescribable _something_ that made him feel even more ill-at-ease. But loath to show it, he did as he was told, sitting as far away from the man as the mat would allow.

A smile spread across the older man's face as he adjusted his position, turning to Hikoshu. "I trust your journey from the North went well?"

"How did you know where I came from?" he asked cautiously, trying to withhold suspicion from his voice. "Or even when I got here?"

Kundan's smile never faltered. "Sister Miyo informed some of the monks of your arrival, who in turn informed me. Except for those few, and the young novice helping you this evening, your presence here has been held in the utmost confidence."

"And you said you wished to speak with me?" Perhaps it was just a formal introduction. What was the likelihood that he would have something to say when Hikoshu barely even knew what he himself was doing?

Kundan nodded, the firelight flashing across the blue arrow as his head moved. "You are quite to the point, Avatar." He reached over to an incense tray that lay at the foot of the statue, delicately moving one stem of incense before it fell off its shelf. "To be honest, I was hoping for some information from you. To make sense of the information with which I've just been entrusted this very morning."

"What information?"

Kundan was not disconcerted by Hikoshu's guarded behavior. "Please, indulge me, Master Avatar, before I address your own questions." Hikoshu didn't answer, as he couldn't say if he'd be able to indulge the Elder in anything.

Kundan took it as agreement, anyway. "I've heard that you've had a rather eventful month since leaving the Western Air Temple."

"You could call it that." He had no idea how much Kundan knew, and how much he was just guessing at. Already, he wished he'd made Chian explain herself more. "It takes a while to get settled in a new routine."

Kundan humphed, his moustache moving along his cheeks, and rested his hands against his knees. "New routine, indeed. I heard that you were attacked, and the Temple Library half-destroyed."

Hikoshu nodded. There was no way to deny that; every nun and her best friend would have known by now. And surely that news would have already reached the North. "Some woman who'd disguised herself as a servant. But you come to accept crazy people. It goes with the job."

Kundan arched one white eyebrow in disbelief. "Is that so?" Then, obviously uninterested in Hikoshu defending his point, he continued. "Now, I'm aware you left for the North in order to start your training in waterbending. But here you are." He let his point hang in the air for a moment, augmenting Hikoshu's discomfort. "Surely, you didn't manage to master waterbending in one week."

"I had other concerns to handle." Suddenly the heat in the room was unbearable, and he fought the urge to shrug off his coat. It would be an obvious sign of unease – a firebender trying to cool off.

"And what would those concerns be, Master Avatar?"

"We are accompanying Natquik, the betrothed to the Water Princess Sahani, to the South Pole. I thought it would be a diplomatic gesture, and I could complete my training there," he said with hesitation. It was the best lie he could come up with on a moment's notice. For some reason, it had never occurred to Hikoshu that he would have to lie to anyone. The simple plan was to arrive, ask to speak to Palnam, and then leave – without Miyo or Natquik. No one had said anything about inquisitions or tests. So he felt ill-prepared to face off with a man who was obviously more than forty years his senior in age, and most likely even more his senior in intuition.

"And nothing else presses you now? No other…concerns?" Kundan airbended himself to his feet before he could answer. His robes fluttered around his legs momentarily, and Hikoshu caught a glimpse of sinewy ankles tucked in wood sandals. "Would you like some tea?"

Hikoshu stared up at him and shook his head awkwardly. "What other concerns would I have?" Kundan studied him down his large, aquiline nose, then moved toward the fireplace.

"Perhaps something about the Fire Nation."

Hikoshu started at that, and he felt sweat along his forehead. So he did know. Possibly even knew that Hikoshu had been lying about the South Pole.

"As I told you," Kundan continued, "some information has come to my attention. From someone I've trusted for years, who has worked closely with the Fire Nation for some time." He covered his hand with his sleeve in order to lift the iron teapot from its ring, his other hand airbending the flames away from him. "Information regarding you. Particularly you."

"Me? What about me?" Why was it so bad if he knew about the Fire Nation? It wasn't as if the airbenders had any reason to work against him. After all, they had more to lose by something happening to the Avatar than anyone else.

Kundan completely ignored his question. "Tell me, Avatar, do you know what happens to firebenders during a solar eclipse?" He seated himself in front of Hikoshu once more, tea cup in hand. "Or waterbenders during a lunar eclipse?"

"We can't bend." When there was no sun, there was no power. The converse was likely true for the waterbenders.

Kundan blew on his tea before sipping it gingerly, his mustache disappearing behind the rim. "Does the Avatar lose the ability to bend in an eclipse?"

"I suppose." In reality, no one had ever told him if that was the case. The Avatar had _chi_ no matter what – perhaps an eclipse prevented him from directing it a certain way. Preoccupied, he let his gaze rest on the fire. Given the rarity of eclipses, was it even an issue?

Kundan was still speaking, and Hikoshu forced his attention back on him. "Waterbenders cannot bend without the moon, without the ocean. Firebenders cannot bend without the sun. Earthbenders cannot bend without earth. And airbenders, well…" he trailed off with a small smile, setting his cup next to the mat. "So what exactly stops the Avatar?" He shook his head uncertainly, his brow furrowing. "I don't know the answer to that."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Kundan returned his eyes to him, his face solemn. "Because, Master Avatar, I received news just this morning of the Fire Nation's intentions – why they were in the Western Air Temple library. Why they may have attacked you." His gaze, distant and worried, slid to the feet of the monk statue. "I was informed that they wish to rob you of your ability to bend."

Hikoshu was speechless.

"They were searching the library hoping to find out exactly _how_ to do it," Kundan continued. "As far as I'm aware, they've searched more than one place, too."

"But…why?" He found words again, though his thoughts were barely coherent. "Why would they want to stop me from bending? What purpose would that serve?"

"Because without your ability to bend, you are ineffective. And by not dying, you obstruct the Avatar Cycle." Kundan's expression turned sympathetic, concerned. "They are trying to stop the Avatar."

The room had gone from uncomfortably hot to intolerably cold, and Hikoshu shivered inside his heavy coat. "But why would they want to? The Fire Nation is a peaceful nation. Fire Lord Kanzagan wanted nothing but balance…"

_But Fire Lord Kanzagan is no longer with us, is he?_

Kundan shook his head. "I cannot know the Fire Nation's true motives. But I see their actions, and I can't ignore the obvious possibility that this is true." He then rubbed at his arrow, finally dropping his gaze to the tiny porcelain tea cup. "I am sorry, Avatar."

"Don't be." The words sounded bitter, and they tasted just the same. After all that had happened, how could he still be hurt by his own home country? After the last three weeks – after the last _two years _– how could this surprise him? "Do you know how I can stop it?"

Kundan nodded, studying the tea cup for a moment more. "I don't know how they plan to block your bending. But there is someone who may. A woman in the northwestern province of the Earth Kingdom. She is very spiritual. She would know more things about the Avatar than anyone alive."

"And she could tell me a way to prevent this?"

"It is your best option, if you wish to find a solution before the Fire Nation finds it."

"Alright." He was overwhelmed, desperate to make sense of all of this. But more than that, he was desperate to get away from there – to have some time to think. Pushing himself to his feet, he gave the Elder a curt bow. "Thank you, Elder Kundan, for speaking to me about this." And then he started for the door.

"Don't lose heart, Avatar," Kundan said, and Hikoshu turned back to him. The Elder's gaze was strong, as if he'd sensed his confusion and knew his feeling of helplessness. But it was the ambiguity of the message that gave him pause, rather than its hints of profundity.

"One more thing," Hikoshu said, ignoring the sage advice. "I need to speak to Elder Palnam on the behalf of Elder Chian. Would he be at the rituals tonight?"

Kundan stared at him, and the silence was so awkward that Hikoshu wondered for a moment if he had breeched some unknown etiquette.

Finally, Kundan spoke, his tone somber. "Elder Palnam passed away at the Southern Air Temple three weeks ago. I'm sorry."

It was the last bit of strange and unfortunate news he could take for the evening. And part of him worried if he stayed any longer, the news would only get worse. With another bow – and with the fear that maybe the world really had turned against him – Hikoshu left the room.


	22. The Garden

**Chapter 21- The Garden**

* * *

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I have no idea what to think."

The light played on soft gray murals, forming a dappled array of artwork as their shadows moved along the walls. Hikoshu walked with his hands tucked in the pockets of his Water Tribe coat, his hair undone from its usual knot, framing both sides of his downcast gaze.

Somewhere to his right was Miyo, as pristine as ever even on such an early, frozen morning. Her breath didn't form the same white fog as his did, and her skin shone with the same warmth as the orange Northern Air Temple robes she wore instead of her own. Between her fingers, she made a tiny wooden bead, left over from the previous night's ceremony, dance on the wind.

"What to think about what?" Miyo pressed, her voice containing no hint of sarcasm. Hikoshu threw her a weary glance anyway.

"Someone in the Fire Nation wants to capture me. Someone in the Fire Nation wants to render me powerless. And all I can think is, _why_? We're a peaceful nation!"

"Not all that peaceful," Miyo muttered, and that time, there was detectable sarcasm. Hikoshu looked at her sharply, causing Miyo to frown at his expression and cease her idle playing. "Don't be mad at me, Hikoshu. I'm just stating the obvious. Of all countries in the last fifty years, they've been the primary instigators of every major conflict. I mean, the Eggshell Island incident, the Western Air Temple massacre. They even _started_ the Ten Years War with the attack on Rajio Bay."

"You don't know that for certain," Hikoshu said defensively, his tone turning petulant. "I'll remind you we didn't attack our own merchant ship in that bay."

Miyo sighed, tucking the wood bead into a long sleeve. "For an Avatar, you're not sounding very neutral. Which is actually my point. You can't see what kind of people the Fire Nation produces because you're _from_ the Fire Nation." She shook her head hopelessly. "It will never make sense to you."

"What kind of 'people' it produces? You know, maybe I'm not the only one with a little bias here."

Miyo stared at him, unimpressed by the accusation. "Stop being ridiculous. You're perfectly aware I have nothing against the Fire Nation. Now, the Water Tribes, on the other hand..."

"Speaking of which, what happened to Natquik?" Hikoshu glanced around, though there was nothing to see in the corridor except painted gray mountains on one side and real gray mountains on the other. "He wasn't in the room when I woke up this morning."

"Probably bored out of his mind," said Miyo with apparent disinterest. "He was harassing me for most of last night with questions. What do monks do all day? What're interesting things to see? How would he keep from going crazy?"

"Well, hopefully he found a way to entertain himself."

"Yeah."

They lapsed into silence – a comfortable quiet that flowed as gently as the cold breeze around them. It was peaceful, and for a moment, it was as if they had never left the Western Air Temple. Just two friends enjoying a short break between practice and devotions. Hikoshu glanced over at Miyo to study her sharp nose in profile. Her dark gray eyes lined with lashes that were the same brown as her hair, which was cut away high on her forehead in a typical nun fashion.

Miyo finally felt his stare and glanced over at him anxiously, her brow wrinkling. "What?"

"I'm just glad you're here."

With a short 'humph' and mock hauteur, she folded her arms into her voluminous sleeves. "It's a good thing, too. How could I expect you to take care of yourself?"

"Meaning _you_ can take care of me?"

"Better than you can, at least." She grinned wryly.

"Then why is it I've been following you for the last half-hour, and we _still_ haven't found the dining halls?" To make his point, he gestured behind them, indicating the distance they'd traveled without making any real progress.

Miyo frowned at his signal and turned her nose up in the air. "Well, I have to admit, it's a lot easier to find when you don't have to walk there. But I'm sure we take a right at the next corridor."

"Good, because I was starting think we'd starve in this hallway."

Miyo began to lecture him – probably on working a little harder on facing his fears – but abruptly her gaze snapped forward, her eyes growing wide. Cued by her reaction, Hikoshu also turned to look ahead, heeding Miyo as she pulled him to a stop.

But it was just Natquik, coming around the same corner that Miyo had said went to the dining halls. Though obviously surprised at finding them so suddenly, he didn't miss a step, his face lighting up with excitement as he hurried toward them.

"Hikoshu, I'm glad I found you," Natquik said, his breath forming happy puffs of fog. "You have to come with me." He clasped a hand to Hikoshu's shoulder as if to emphasize the need for him to follow.

Hikoshu stared at his hand before returning his gaze to the waterbender. "If you just came from breakfast, we were going there ourselves. Eventually."

Natquik shook his head. "No, not food. Better than food."

"Believe me, with Hikoshu, it doesn't get better than food," Miyo said, and he could detect a little annoyance in her voice. As if offended their conversation was excluding her.

Finally acknowledging her, Natquik flashed her a bright grin. "Why, Miyo, you're looking particularly nunnish today." And addressing Hikoshu once more, "It's a girl. And an actual, Earth Kingdom girl, not a…" Quite conspicuously, he jerked his head toward Miyo.

"You're dragging him away from a meal so you can flirt?" She was definitely indignant, and Natquik stared at her innocently.

"Miyo, this is a meal for the _soul_. And just like any appetite, it shouldn't be neglected."

Hikoshu finally brushed the waterbender's hand off his shoulder. He was certainly more in the mood to eat than to spy on a girl. But something in what Natquik had said piqued his interest.

"Is she far away?" It was almost an agreement, and Natquik grinned even more broadly at Hikoshu's apparent curiosity.

"Not at all. Just down the hall and out into the garden."

"I can't believe you're actually skipping breakfast with me to go looking for some girl." Miyo turned her indignant tone on him as she stared up in hurt accusation. Hikoshu squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Well, if you want to come with us…"

That somehow only made her angrier. "No, thank you. I'd rather not partake in your bonding time with Natquik." Then, just as sharply as her words, she turned on her heel and marched down the hallway.

"Miyo!" Hikoshu called after her as she moved quickly away, her back arched in righteous fury, but Natquik again grabbed his arm.

"Believe me, you don't want a nun around. Now come on."

He didn't have much chance to argue.

In the maze of the Air Temple, it had been odd that Natquik had found them so easily. Yet Hikoshu's surprise faded as he saw how well he navigated the halls. He didn't even pause in taking each turn, and though Hikoshu was almost immediately lost, Natquik seemed to have an innate sense of direction, knowing without hesitation which way to go next.

"You said this was just down the hall," Hikoshu finally protested, more curious than angry. Natquik threw a glance back at him, grinning wryly as he rubbed a thumb across his cheek.

"Well, I didn't say _which_ hall. We're almost there."

And they were. This new corridor, beige in color and covered in blue clouds, ended with an open door to the outside. The sun no longer shone through the high windows of the passage, and so when they stepped into the garden, the light was almost blinding.

As Hikoshu's eyes adjusted, he could see a panorama of the enormous mountain range, covered in a cloak of thin white clouds that scuttled with distant gusts. The wind, partly obscured by the corridor, now hit him in full blast, ripping at his hair and flattening the fur on his coat. Natquik hitched his identical coat closer to his neck and descended into the garden.

The garden itself wasn't much of one. There were three tiers, each terrace separate from the other by natural formations of the mountain side. Stairs etched into the rock allowed a person to climb down into each new level, which theoretically held different plants on all three platforms. In reality, everything had already died, killed either by the cold or by the dry summer.

So what he saw instead were empty flower beds and decrepit trees, everything as brown and barren as the mountain they had been forced to grow from. There were animals – weasel-like creatures, covered in black and white fur, foraging through the flower beds for any immature seeds. And above them, what appeared to be a falcon-fox circled the area, perhaps looking to catch one of the little rodents unawares.

"Down there," Natquik said and gestured to the lowest level before blowing on his fingers for warmth. "Behind that tree." Trying not to shiver, Hikoshu followed him into the garden.

She was sitting on one of the low rock walls that separated a particularly scraggly tree from the rest of the garden. The rock wall spiraled outward, likely forming the symbol of the Air Nomads, visible in the air. But it was really the girl that held his attention. Her back was to him, a heavy brown coat obscuring her figure and a triangular cap hiding her head. She seemed fascinated with one of the weasel creatures inside the enclosure, her pale hands picking apart bread to throw to it.

Natquik came up behind him, nearly making him jump. "So? Let's go say hi."

"You haven't talked to her yet?" Hikoshu asked, and he shook his head no, apparently excited at the prospect of doing so. "Then how do you even know she's a girl?" He frowned at the large, bulky figure feeding the rodents. "All I see is a bundle of cloth."

"Hikoshu…I know these things." Natquik's smile never faltered as he clapped his shoulder. "Plus I saw her going into the garden. Come on."

Sighing, Hikoshu followed him.

The wind must have hidden their steps, for she didn't look up as they approached, her head bent studiously over her task of tearing the bread. And when Natquik cleared his throat, she still didn't immediately respond.

"I was just passing by with my friend here," Natquik began as he drew Hikoshu to a stop, and struck what must've been a confident pose, "and saw that you, dear girl, were all alone. And certainly, we could not let such a travesty continue."

The girl finally turned her attention to them, her body shifting so she faced them. She actually was quite lovely. And quite familiar.

Hikoshu wasn't sure if she felt the same jolt of recognition as he; her dark, innocent features didn't change at all, though her gaze was fixed steadily on him. The wind yanked at her hood, which she reached up to hold in place with her free hand. Otherwise, she didn't speak. And neither did he.

Natquik very quickly realized how tense the silence was, as he glanced between them both suspiciously. "I'm getting the feeling you two already know each other."

That seemed to break whatever awkward tension existed between them, and she smiled at him courteously, pressing her hands together as she ducked her head. "We've met. And actually, I believe I've met you, too, _ilinniaqtuq_ Natquik."

Natquik looked crestfallen. "You have?" His tone was disappointed, perhaps because he'd just deduced what she probably was – what Hikoshu already knew she was: a diplomat.

"My name is Yan-lin, Omashu consul to the Northwest Territory of the Earth Kingdom. Though I'm not sure if you remember me. I haven't visited the Southern Water Tribe since I was much younger." Again, she inclined her head, politely removing her hood to let that all-too-familiar brown hair whip freely in the wind. It didn't seem to stir any memory in Natquik. "But I did speak with your young bride, Princess Sahani, around the New Year. How is she?"

If Natquik could be any more disheartened, those words seemed to do it. "She's fine, I suppose."

Hikoshu had remained silent throughout the exchange, as he worked through the vaguely uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Her presence there was both strange and a little suspicious. How could it be that in one of the most isolated places in the world, she would be there, too? Nor did it help that the unpleasant memory of their last meeting lingered so close to the forefront of his mind.

"I'm surprised," he finally said coolly, "a diplomat for an Earth Kingdom territory would be at an Air Temple." Yan-lin's gaze snapped back to him, and suddenly the polite smile was gone, replaced with general annoyance. She threw the remains of the loaf to the weasel-things and dusted her hands as she turned to face them completely.

"A diplomat travels to many places and avails herself of many cultures," she answered curtly. "I came here to attend the First Snow Prayers, if it's any of your business."

"I just find it odd that you would be here at the same time as I."

"Believe it or not, Master Avatar, the world does not in fact revolve around you"

"Alright," Natquik interrupted, raising his hands as he stepped away from the two. "I can tell you two have some sort of history that you probably want to work out. So if you need me, I'll be playing with the panda-ferrets…up there…somewhere." He bowed rather shallowly to Yan-lin and took his leave, though neither of them really noticed.

"How long are you staying?" Hikoshu asked. She stood, pulling on the sleeves of her coat, and he noted once more that she was quite a bit shorter than him.

"Tomorrow, or whenever the next bison leaves." She hesitated, looking him over casually as if reconsidering her answer. "I try to keep moving as much as possible."

"Is that so?" He couldn't drop the suspicion in his tone. He had no reason not to trust her – just an inherent dislike of her. Perhaps Miyo was right. Perhaps he was straying too far from neutrality.

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?" The wind redoubled its strength, and she was forced to turn away as her hair lashed into her face. "It's part of my job." She struggled to hold back the thick locks, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

Without thinking, Hikoshu reached into his pocket, pulling out the string he often used to tie back his own hair, and offered it to her. Spying it through the chaos, she smiled and took it from him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Then, for her benefit, he bended the wind away.

She stared in surprise as her hair fell down around her in a frizzy mess, everything held perfectly still in their small sphere. Around them, on either side, the tree branches continued to writhe under the push of the mountain gust, but nothing touched them.

"Are you…?"

"Airbending, yes," Hikoshu grunted from his awkward position, one hand extended and held high, the other level with his chest, his legs bent low to the ground. "So if you could hurry and fix your hair...?"

"Oh…" A moment later, she had twisted it back into a bun that jarred his memory, and gave him a smile that made the feeling even more disconcerting. "I'm finished." When he straightened, the wind once more hit them. But its force was such that they could at least talk.

"I take it you've mastered airbending?" Yan-lin said as she seated herself once more on the rock wall. She signaled for him to do the same.

"I've had some practice." He ignored the offer, rubbing his hands together before returning them to his pockets. "After four years or so, you pick up a few tricks."

"Well, I appreciate it," she said, leaning back on her palms. "This would be the second time you've saved me from my own hair."

And rather suddenly, the strange, uncomfortable feeling died down enough that Hikoshu found himself willing to take that seat beside her. Yan-lin's demeanor had abruptly changed – rather than the rude, haughty government official he'd seen last time, she somewhat resembled the girl he'd met briefly before.

"If you would welcome a man's opinion on it," Hikoshu said as he sat by her with his legs folded under him, "you might try a braid." Yan-lin grinned wryly, quirking her eyebrows in an almost self-effacing manner.

"It doesn't look very regal with that tin hat I always wear." A few broken strands of hair blew back in her eyes, and carelessly she brushed them away.

"Actually, I think this might the first time I've seen you look anything less than regal."

Again, that quirky grin. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment, but yes, I don't dress as nicely at the Monasteries anymore." She gave the Temple a furtive glance. "They're usually less than lenient about letting in women outside the nomadic tribes."

"Then why'd they let you in? As you're from the Earth Kingdom…" he trailed off, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Well, I didn't think the Air Nomads and Omashu were having much to do with each other." Yan-lin's eyes widened in fake surprise, as if the idea of bad blood between the two nations had never occurred to her.

"You're absolutely right. I must press my advantage while here and conquer the Air Temple in the name of Omashu."

Hikoshu stared at her sourly. "You don't have to mock me."

"Well, I can't help it!" she said with a laugh, dropping her hands into her lap. "You think in very broad terms, Hikoshu. Two countries can have mild disagreements and still interact. It's not like our continued talks on the issue of the Air Nomad relocation will interfere with every aspect of diplomacy. We still have to deal with each other on other levels."

He felt his guard returning. Forget neutrality – the girl was just disagreeable. Perhaps he'd made a mistake, staying to talk with her. It would probably be best if he just found Natquik and left.

But as he moved to get up, Yan-lin grabbed his arm and forced him down again. "You're so sensitive. Listen, I'm not insulting your ability to understand the world. Obviously you can – you're the Avatar. You know more about how the world _should_ work than anyone alive."

Hikoshu allowed her to detain him, though he frowned at her grip on his elbow before shaking it off. Part of him realized she was right – that he was overreacting to a perceived insult. Still, another part of him didn't think the 'insult' was all that imagined.

"But you're criticizing my knowledge of how the world _does_ work," he finished for her. Yan-lin hesitated, as if uncertain she should agree to that, but her hesitation spoke volumes. Hikoshu again got up to go.

"Wait!" Yan-lin again seized his arm, but he didn't allow her to pull him down. Instead, she stood up, moving to block his path. It was almost laughable, someone so much shorter than him trying to impede him. Yet he stopped, eyeing her irritably.

"I've obviously not made a very good first impression," she said, casting her gaze down in contrition. "Can we just…start over?" Though he made no agreement, she took his silence as one and gave a bow – an exaggerated deep bow, her hands pressed tightly together. "Master Avatar, it's an honor to meet you."

She straightened and touched a hand to her chest in a delicate, almost formal manner. "I am Yan-lin, daughter of General Gi-Luon of the Western Mountain Front, consul and delegate to the Northwest Territory under the grace of King Du Gong of Omashu. But my friends just call me Yan." She leaned in to murmur the last part, as if showing him a window into her private life that no one else was allowed to glimpse. The introduction, though, only made one question come to his mind.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?"

She acted offended – it was hard to tell if it was merely an act – and pulled away. "Not exactly the most polite question to ask someone you just met. I suppose next, you'll wonder what kind of music I like, or how often I wash my dudou."

Hikoshu was aghast. "I asked about your social relations, not about your undergarments." Almost automatically, though, he glanced down at her clothes. She certainly didn't look much like a girl – her heavy over-robe, made thick with some sort of brown wool, extended all the way to her knees, under which peeked the hem of a green silk gown. Nothing else really seemed feminine on her except her face.

"Are you actually checking to see if I'm wearing one, Master Avatar?"

The fact that she read his mind was embarrassing enough. The fact there wasn't a hint of teasing in her voice made it even worse.

"I suppose you taunt all the men you've just met similarly?" he said as he stiffened his shoulders, trying hard to hide his own mortification. She smiled slyly and took a step closer to him.

"No. Just the pretty ones," she said, her words barely audible over the wind. And for a moment, Hikoshu doubted he'd heard her right at all. But her dark brown eyes stared up at him coyly, giving him the distinct impression that she might actually be serious.

Yan-lin broke into a grin at his disgusted look and backed away. "I'm just teasing you, Hikoshu. I don't think you're pretty at all."

"The feeling's mutual," he muttered as his discomfort once more became irritation, and he started past. Again, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to round on her. "Look, when people make an attempt to walk away, it's usually because they want to leave."

"Then I'll get right to the point." Her manner had quickly changed. Tightly, she held onto his elbow, all humor gone from her face. In its place was a strict pragmatism, a sheer strength of will that must have served her well as a diplomat. "No more jokes, Hikoshu. I need to talk to you."

Hikoshu scowled. "And you have to hold me captive while you do it?"

"I know where you're planning to go."

The words caught him off-guard, and he stared at her for a long moment before speaking. "How do you know that?"

She finally released his arm with a sigh and glanced past him to the Temple entrance where Natquik probably waited. "Elder Kundan informed me of it sometime early last night." But Kundan didn't know he was headed for the Fire Nation, either; at least, he hadn't thought so.

"And why would he do that?" Hikoshu took the moment of freedom to rub at his arm. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"It _is_ my business." When she didn't continue, he gestured for her to do so. She responded with another sigh and a frustrated look at the Temple. "You're going to the qu-dan, aren't you?"

Hikoshu's blank stare should have been enough of an answer. "Qu-dan?"

"The mystic? That doesn't sound familiar?"

"Obviously not."

"Well, where did Elder Kundan _tell_ you you'd go?" Assured that she had his attention, she sat again on the stone wall, pulling her pointed cap down around her ears.

Hikoshu shrugged, confused but also a bit relieved that she hadn't meant the Fire Nation. "I don't know. Some woman to the west? I assumed he'd explain a little more before I left."

"He can't explain any more because he doesn't know any more." The tan fur trim of the hood obscured her eyes, leaving only her strangely small mouth visible. "He wants you to see the qu-dan, a mystic in the Makapu mountain range."

"He wants me to see a fortuneteller?"

"The qu-dan is more than a mere fortuneteller." Yan-lin's tone assumed an edge, as if warning him against such a comparison. "She is the gatekeeper for the Spirit World. A powerful individual who forms a bridge to the spirits. Kind of like you, Avatar." She added the last with a smirk. "And I'm the only one who can take you to her."

Hikoshu obligingly held out a hand, his look of curiosity exaggerated. "Please, do tell how you're the only person who knows where this powerful gatekeeper lives."

"I didn't say I'm the only person who knows. I just said I'm the only one who can take you there." Her smirk turned into an angry frown, and her tone turned sullen. "The former King of Omashu feared she would be used by evil forces—"

"Evil, or rebellious?" Something in her voice made him think it was more likely the latter.

"—to destroy the foundations of our city." She completely ignored the interruption. "So for her safety, he has hidden her away in a secret location, known only to his highest ranking officials. Being the daughter of one of the current King's closest advisors, and a diplomat to that region of the continent, I happen to have that information."

"So," Hikoshu frowned thoughtfully, rubbing at his cheek, "what you're saying is that the King of Omashu is holding this woman captive somewhere to the west. And, luckily for me, you're one of the few people who know where he's keeping her."

"Put it however you wish," she said, though he didn't need to see her neck to know her hackles were rising. "The fact is, the Elder for whatever reason thinks you need to find the qu-dan. And the only way you'll find her is with me."

"And what if I refuse?"

The hood hid her eyes, but he knew Yan-lin was giving him that look – the look everyone gave him when he asked a stupid question. "Do you think I care if I don't take you there? Please, don't deny me the pleasure of a week on a bison riding with you," she said dryly, pushing herself to her feet. "Frankly, I'd rather not go, anyway. The qu-dan is very…" her lips twisted into a grimace as she looked away. "She's very disturbing. But that alone tells me this is important. The Elder would have never asked me to take you there unless he honestly thought you _had_ to go."

Hikoshu remained silent. He still didn't quite understand what the qu-dan was, but Kundan had implied that this woman could tell him how to stop the Fire Nation from taking his bending. So Yan-lin was right. This was very important. And though he had no desire to trust her, he might need her help after all.

"Just talk to Kundan," she said, pulling off her hood. "I want to leave as soon as possible, with or without you, so I need an answer soon." Swiftly, she undid the tie he lent her, her hair unraveling and snapping into the wind. Before he could speak, she took his hand and pushed the string into his fingers, her palm clasping his momentarily. "Thank you for that."

She let go, yanking on her hood as she bowed. "Good day, Avatar." Without his response, she stepped around him and headed for the garden's entrance, her hair whipping under her cap.

Hikoshu simply stared at her retreating back. Then, as she disappeared, he looked slowly to the tie wrapped around his knuckles. His eyes remained on that string for longer than he realized, his attention pulled away only when Natquik nudged him in the ribs.

"So how'd it go?" he said, grinning suggestively. He'd also hitched up his hood around his face, and under that white fur, he looked particularly wolfish. "You two talked for a while."

"It went fine," Hikoshu answered vaguely, stuffing the tie back into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, his instincts were going crazy. Screaming not to trust her at all – screaming that this qu-dan sounded like a very bad idea. And yet, something else in him said that perhaps this plan had some merit.

He was just afraid that 'something else' was the same part of him that might have liked her quirky grin, or enjoyed the feel of her hand.

**

* * *

A/N:** A long time ago, I decided that, of all nations, the Water Tribes would have changed in the most in 1,000 years. This was based on my imagining them as an insular culture. After all, they still seem pretty insular, even in the present. And based on that isolation, I decided they'd have their own language. Which, of course, I decided to base on Inuktitut or other Inuit languages. The main driving force was about seven chapters back, when I couldn't find a good word for 'fancy meeting hall' and Temple didn't sound appropriate. So I called the Northern Water Tribe buiding a 'kashiq'.

That being said, I will use fan-Inuktitut again in the future (very sparingly), it _will_ serve some plot relevance, and I will certainly translate it, through context of the story, if its translation has any significance.

In this case, '_ilinniaqtuq' _is - I believe - an Inuktitut word meaning 'student' and therefore totally irrelevant except as a demonstration of an aspect of Yan-lin's character. So I didn't translate it. And if I don't translate something in the future, I swear it's based on the same reason.

I also apologize to any and all native speakers. I really try my hardest to stay as grammatically accurate as I can. You are all free to correct me, and rudely.


	23. Shaving

**Chapter 22 - Shaving**

* * *

Miyo stared at him silently. Or maybe she was glaring. Hikoshu couldn't really see so much as feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. Trying to ignore her, he peered into the small, round mirror and ran the bronze razor along the side of his cheek. As he washed off the soapy remnants in the basin, he leaned sideways in order to catch her gaze in the reflection.

She sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, her arms crossed quite agitatedly over her breasts, her mouth twisted into an unpleasant frown. Behind her, the sun shone through the only window in the room, casting a halo of light around her robed shoulders.

"You know," he said, meeting her eyes through the bronze mirror, "if you're going to sit there without talking, you could just give me some privacy."

Gray eyes seethed at him. "We both know you're shaving to avoid the subject."

"Yes," he muttered, returning to an upright position. "A week's worth of growth and I'm just doing this not to talk to you." He leaned in to inspect his reflection carefully, looking for the edge of his last sweep. "But if it makes you feel any better, please, continue berating me."

"For inviting that Earth Kingdom girl along? When you have no reason even to trust her? Why would I berate you for that?" She'd been getting a lot better at sarcasm in the last month.

"I told you, I already talked to Elder Kundan. He did honestly ask her to help me. So you might as well just let it go." Hikoshu stretched his chin upward.

"But you don't even know where she's taking you – who this spiritualist is. Don't you think this is a big risk?"

"Fortune favors the bold, Miyo."

"I don't think it favors the stupid, Hikoshu."

He tapped the razor on the edge of the porcelain basin and turned toward her with an inevitably futile retort, when he was interrupted by the wood-slat door to his right slamming open, hitting the wall of the short entryway that framed it. Surprised, Natquik looked into the room; it was so small that by stepping inside, he was already at the edge of the first bed and only a few steps away from the bed where Miyo sat. Seeing the space so full of people already, he hesitated, glancing between them both.

"What are you doing?" he asked slowly, a little disturbed. Hikoshu looked down at himself and noted belatedly his appearance. He'd removed his robes in order to avoid a mess and now only wore a set of sealskin trousers provided by the Northern Water Tribe.

Miyo seemed to have the same idea as him, as they both said at the same time, "Shaving." Natquik stared for a moment more, then, having decided they weren't lying, stepped into the room and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Maybe I should come back when Miyo's getting ready to shave," he quipped, seating himself on the foot of the empty bed.

With an eye-roll, Hikoshu turned back to the mirror. "She's a nun, Natquik."

"I'm a nun, Natquik," Miyo echoed him rather dryly.

"Well, you _do_ have to shave, don't you? That…forehead…thing of yours?" His voice turned uncomfortable, and the ensuing silence led Hikoshu to believe that Miyo was making sure he really felt that discomfort.

"Unlike me, she gets to shave privately," Hikoshu answered for her, returning to his occupation. "Without the complimentary lectures."

"What complimentary lectures?"

"Yes, Hikoshu, tell him why I'm lecturing you," she said with mock enthusiasm.

"I'm not talking while I'm shaving," he answered curtly, moving his chin to the left.

"Then let me fill you in." Thus, she excluded him from the conversation, much to his relief. "Hikoshu's planning to travel with that Earth Kingdom woman."

"Earth Kingdom woman? Hikoshu, you wolf!" Hikoshu gasped as Natquik leaned forward to slap him on the back. Just barely pulling the razor away in time, he rounded on the waterbender with a glare.

"Did you really want to kill me?" He waved the razor for emphasis, sending flecks of soap flying. Natquik still grinned salaciously at him, as if learning the most lecherous thing one could about a person. "I just need her as a guide."

"A guide. Right. Well, I probably wouldn't mind the company. Though, Miyo here…" he leaned back on his hands, jerking his head toward the Air Nun.

"Oh, didn't Hikoshu tell you?" Miyo asked with feigned surprise, and Hikoshu sighed, looking back to the mirror. "We're not going with him."

"What?" Natquik didn't sound so amused anymore.

"You heard me. He's decided that it's in our best interests not to take us to the Fire Nation with him. Obviously, we're children who need to be protected."

Abruptly, Natquik was beside the basin, his face drawn in an uncharacteristic grimace. "You're not really leaving us here, are you?"

"It's just easier if I don't have to worry about people." Hikoshu leaned in toward the mirror, pretending to be occupied with the grain of beard on his chin, but really interested in avoiding the waterbender's eyes. "I could do this better by myself." Then, throwing a frown back at Miyo, he added, "At least I told you this time, right?" Miyo looked unimpressed.

"But you can't," Natquik protested, trying to draw his attention back to him. "I'll go insane in a temple full of old religious men." Then, grabbing the hem of his coat, he pulled the furs over the top of his head and tossed it on the bed.

"You can catch the next bison out of here. I'm sure the monks will be glad to see you back to the North Pole." He glanced at Natquik, and realized this was the first he'd seen the man without his coat on. It made him look a lot leaner, more like the athletic build he probably had from years of training. The blue wool robe extended nearly to his knees and was cinched at the waist by some kind of dark leather, his forearms wrapped in strips of fabric. And around his neck was a loose bone necklace covered in Water Tribe symbols that meant absolutely nothing to Hikoshu.

"I can't return without Sahani," Natquik continued, leaning in close to the mirror to hold Hikoshu's attention. Hikoshu tried even harder to avoid looking at him. "I'll be the shame of my clan. I won't even _have_ a clan."

"You're out of luck, anyway," Miyo said, her tone bitter. "He's not planning to go to the Fire Nation anymore. He's going to…where was it, Hikoshu? The Makapu Mountains?"

Natquik frowned. "I don't know where that is, but it already sounds like a bad idea."

"I'm just going there first," Hikoshu clarified, taking a moment to face him. It really was surprising – they'd been sharing a room for a day now and he _still_ hadn't seen the waterbender without his coat on. "I'll go to the Fire Nation afterward. Alone."

"You know Chian's life is waiting on a deadline," Miyo said.

"I _should_ know. You remind me every hour," Hikoshu said darkly, pushing the blade against his neck.

"Well, you seem to keep forgetting that this entire thing isn't about you. We all have reasons to be here, but you insist on making decisions for the group."

"This _is_ about me, Miyo." He turned to face her. With the sun behind her head like that, it made her wrath appear all the more righteous, and her mouth still formed that unforgiving frown. "As much as you two feel you're losing by this, I think I'm the only one here who might lose his life." He swung back to the mirror, angrily tilting his head to reach his neck. Just a little too quickly. Catching against his skin, the slick blade pulled out of his hand and left a long, painful gash to the edge of his jaw.

Wincing, Hikoshu stared for a moment at the blood welling up around the cut, then scowled at his reflection as he set the razor on a short connected table. "Wonderful. See? This is why I don't argue with people while I shave." He ducked his head in order to wash it off in the basin, but Natquik grabbed his shoulder.

"Did you want blood poisoning?" he muttered, forcing him back to an upright position. "Miyo, where's the fresh water?" She shrugged and gestured to the pitcher on the other side of the connected table.

"If there's any left."

"Hikoshu, we're aware you have more at stake than us," Natquik said, moving his hands in front him in what resembled simplified waterbending. In response, water emerged from the pitcher, writhing through the air as it swirled around Hikoshu and then slipped over Natquik's palm like a glove. "But we still have our reasons for wanting to go." With his water-coated hand, he leaned forward and cupped the side of Hikoshu's neck, directly over the gash. "And frankly, your reason for not letting us? Not very good."

The place where he touched suddenly grew warm, the pain fading into a strange tingling sensation along his jaw. He watched in the mirror as the water around Natquik's knuckles glowed a brilliant blue and trickled down his face. Moments later, when the bender pulled away, the cut had disappeared. Nothing but a smooth stretch of skin.

"Of course, you could sneak out under the cover of night and leave without us knowing," Natquik continued, rubbing his hand along the side of his robe. "We wouldn't be able to follow you. But, honestly, do you want to alienate the only people you can trust right now?" He glanced between them as Hikoshu didn't answer, both he and Miyo staring in silent surprise. "What?"

"I don't want to _hurt_ the only people I can trust right now," Hikoshu said with a shake of his head and bent down to retrieve the blade.

"Hikoshu!" Miyo snapped, causing him to jump. "Were you ignoring what he just did? You can't refuse someone who could heal you with just some water!"

"He can't heal me if he's dead!"

"I think you're both being overdramatic." Natquik leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "You're making it sound like someone's going to die at the end of this, which is just asking for trouble from the spirits. Why don't you step back and get some perspective?"

"Hikoshu," Miyo said without any acknowledgement of Natquik's advice. "You can't do this alone."

Hikoshu turned, startled by her choice of words. There was concern in her expression, buried underneath all that admonishing anger. Sighing, he splashed his face with the quickly freezing water and grabbed a threadbare towel from the short stand.

"Fine. I'll take Natquik with me. But not you." He made sure to pin her with one, very serious eye as he dried his neck. "There is _no_ reason for you to come along."

Natquik seemed to have something to say about that. "Wait a moment, that doesn't seem fair."

"You're not going to leave me, Hikoshu," Miyo said, finally uncrossing her arms so that she could lean forward. "I followed you this far. I'm not going to abandon you now."

"Besides, what if we need an airbender?" Natquik offered helpfully. Hikoshu stared at him, momentarily speechless.

"_I'm_ an airbender?" he managed, but the response only made Natquik snort.

"Seriously, though, you'll have more luck with a master waterbender _and_ a master airbender around."

"You just want her around so you can flirt with her," Hikoshu said, gesturing toward Miyo. She made a sound of protest, but didn't press it.

Natquik, though, looked properly offended. "I'll remind you I'm happily engaged? Besides," he added almost sullenly, "I'm sure I can find someone who's _not_ a nun."

"Oh, hold your tongue," said Miyo angrily, and Hikoshu had no idea which part she was complaining about. "The fact is, Hikoshu, if you leave me, I _will_ go looking for you. And I _will_ end up in the Fire Nation. Now, which sounds easier? Having me around to help you or having to rescue me instead?"

Hikoshu gaped at her. Then, shaking his head, he moved to grab his robes from the straw mattress she currently sat on. "I can't believe you're even threatening such a thing. Do you know how completely crazy you sound?"

Perhaps feeling she hadn't made her point intently enough, she grasped his arm just above his elbow and forced him to meet her rather severe gaze. And perhaps he'd never learned quite how to stand up to her, but he felt himself cave under that stern look.

"Fine. Whatever. Both of you come," he muttered, pulling away from her and seizing his inner robe. Miyo brightened moderately, but not all that much. As if she shouldn't be happy about going because she already knew she would.

"You know," Natquik said as he sat next to Miyo on the bed, "I think I need a shave, too, if you want to stay around."

Hikoshu had his back turned when he heard the loud thud of Natquik hitting the ground. Even in tight spaces, Miyo could airbend pretty well.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Hikoshu usually had an audience no matter where he went. So it surprised him a little when he found himself alone on the bison point, holding his own luggage.

Maybe the Elders had commanded the monks to stick to their schedule, rather than making a special occasion of the Avatar's departure. Though he couldn't help but think back to the last few days and the general attitude of the Northern Air Temple. Where the Western nuns had been shy but curious of him in his first days there, the monks here had been guarded and almost apathetic. He'd been too preoccupied with matters to consider it before, but now that he was by himself at the bison point, the strange mood hovered in his thoughts.

"Where's your entourage?" a voice said, echoing his own questions, and he turned to see Natquik amble across the bridge, his leather tribal sack slung over his shoulder. The waterbender hiked his fur-trimmed hood over his ears as he scanned the empty platform.

Hikoshu shrugged, looking back to the wall of the massive Temple, its green tiled roofs glittering under the late morning sun. There were no faces watching him from the verandas or windows, no curious passers-by stopping along the open stairways. It was as if his presence had gone completely unnoticed.

"Can't say I blame them," Natquik continued as he followed his gaze back to the Temple. "I bet you're used to a more royal treatment back at the Fire Nation." Giving a light groan, he threw the pack on the frozen ground and sat down beside it. "As you can see, it doesn't work quite the same way up here."

"And why is that?" Hikoshu asked, taking a seat next to him. To be honest, he was a lot happier with any position that reduced his view of the steep chasm on every side of the point.

Natquik eyed him, as if assessing how serious he was about that question. Then, apparently deciding he meant it, he gestured behind them. "You know. The whole war thing. Up here in the North, everyone has bad feelings about it. Even the Air Nomads."

"I don't see why. After all, they weren't the ones we attacked." Hikoshu felt mildly uncomfortable talking about the war. Particularly with this man, who easily personified the very people his nation went to war with. And even though it was forty years ago, well before both their lifetimes, bad blood still obviously ran strong between the two countries.

Natquik gave him a shocked, almost affronted, look, the white fur trim making his dark features look even darker. "What are you talking about? Do you even _know_ the history of the war?"

Hikoshu scowled, the way he always did when he felt someone was making little of his observational skills. "We're taught that to dwell in the past is to dwell on what cannot be changed. And as that leads to strong emotions, we're taught to ignore what can't be and focus on what _should_ be."

"Right. Well, of course you wouldn't want to dwell on that." Natquik rolled his eyes in vague contempt. "Who wants to remember bloodthirsty savagery?"

"Strong words, Natquik," Hikoshu muttered, focusing his gaze on his hands as he tried to rein in his temper. Natquik certainly seemed to want to test it. "Keep in mind you're talking about my home country here."

"No, right now, I'm talking about you." With a sigh, he leaned back on his hands. Hikoshu had to marvel at how he could stand to touch the icy ground without gloves. "You're the Avatar! Forget about what the Fire Nation did. What about the things _you_ did?"

"Please, enlighten me." Even though he really didn't want him to – even though he'd heard a million times how Sidhari had made a mess of things – Hikoshu couldn't help but bait Natquik into the fight he anticipated would come of this.

If the waterbender knew what he planned, he gave no hint of it. Instead, he shook his head, frowning at some distant mountain peak hidden in a morning haze. "You weren't there. The Western Air Nuns were massacred, our Tribe was attacked, and when the Northern Water Tribe beseeched you to intervene, you simply refused." He looked back to Hikoshu, squinting his eyes in confusion. "How does an Avatar choose to do something like that? What could your reason have possibly been to ignore everyone?"

Somehow, in the accusation, Hikoshu lost the heart to argue. What could he say? That it wasn't him? That he never made those choices? In a past life, he did. Somewhere, many years ago, he had felt the need to let those people be slaughtered. And the same justification existed inside him, whether or not he had internalized the lesson.

"Warm your hands," he said finally, surrendering the topic. He held his hands out, his palms facing each other, and produced a ball of flame between them. "To thank you. For helping with that cut on my chin."

Natquik grinned, sitting up in order to take advantage of the fire. "Imagine, the Avatar dying of a shaving accident? I would never live it down. Nor would you."

This made Hikoshu bark a laugh and nearly lose the flame in the wind. "Avatar Kwandek, the Great Wave of the North. Avatar Sidhari, the Great Neglector. Avatar Hikoshu…died from a bad trim."

They laughed about it together, for once actually enjoying each other's company. And when the sound of someone else approaching finally reached them, they didn't even notice it at first.

In fact, it was the gentle clearing of a throat that caught their attention, and they both turned in their seated position to gaze over their shoulders. There stood Yan-lin, looking rather…un-feminine. She still wore that drab brown coat from the other day, though the hood hung from her neck, and her hair was tied into a long braid that draped over her shoulder, where a short leather pack rested. But under her coat, instead of the green silk robes he'd come to associate with her, she wore dark brown pants tucked into sturdy boots. Over all, she was just _brown_. Not at all the delicate high society Earth Kingdom girl she'd always resembled.

And she was staring at Natquik with an unhappy frown, her dark eyes displeased.

"_Suvit, __ilinniaqtuq Natqik_?" she said cryptically, and Hikoshu looked slowly to Natquik for some sort of translation. In turn, he gave her a shrug and the half-grin that Miyo had said probably won the girls over.

"_Inimik qiniqtanga_. _Ikayurniaqjara,_" he answered with a wave toward Hikoshu. "After all, he needs to learn waterbending, anyway. What's the matter with it?"

"Hey," Hikoshu interrupted, turning around so that he faced them both. "I don't speak Water Tribe. Someone care to explain?"

"She was just asking what I was doing here," Natquik said as he pulled his sack into his lap. "Well, that and showing off she knows _imaqupaqit_. My native language," he added slyly at Hikoshu's expression. "And I just told her I was going along to help you look for whatever place you're looking for. And help you learn waterbending. Then I asked her why she cared."

"Yes, I got the last part."

Yan-lin didn't seem to be any happier in having her private conversation translated for uninvolved parties, but as Natquik did it anyway, she shifted her eyes to Hikoshu. "I didn't realize this would be a task that required assistance."

"What can I say?" Hikoshu said, pushing himself to his feet. "He won't stop following me. He's like a bull-lion pup or something."

"Why, that's an adorable comparison, Hikoshu. Thank you." Natquik followed his lead and grabbed his sack as he stood.

Yan-lin was not amused. "I suppose it's alright if I show _one_ of your friends an extremely secret Earth Kingdom location. Even if he's the future consort to one of the most powerful members of the Water Tribes." Her tone implied that it really wasn't alright. Natquik ducked his head in gratitude, wearing a pleased expression.

"Why, that's also very flattering, thank you," he answered, though he was distracted by a figure diving through the low-set clouds, closely resembling that of a bison. Hikoshu assumed it was probably their ride.

"So you already lined up a monk for transportation?" Yan-lin said in progression of that thought. Hikoshu shrugged, his eyes still on the descending animal.

"Not a monk exactly," Natquik replied instead, shooting her a grin. "Don't suppose you speak Air Nomad?" She grimaced at him.

"You two better get out of the way." Hikoshu grabbed Natquik's shoulder as he retrieved his own satchel, and they both took several steps back. Above them, the bison grew very large very quickly, and a moment later, it glided onto the point, causing the ground to shake under its colossal feet.

The bison actually looked strangely familiar, even as far as bison go.

"Wait…you're bringing _Rosma_ again?" Hikoshu asked, approaching the nose of the large, shaggy animal. Rosma gave a rumbling groan in greeting, and Miyo, back in her old yellow-and-orange Western nun outfit, beamed from the top of his head.

"Well, I couldn't just take someone else's bison. Besides," she said, patting the beast's arrow, "we've bonded."

"Bonded with the most ill-tempered of all the sky bisons," Hikoshu said, launching his satchels into the animal's saddle with a little airbending. "Of course, you did."

"So I'm showing _two_ of your friends the very secret Earth Kingdom location?" Yan-lin pulled her bag off her shoulder, staring up at Miyo dubiously. Miyo, in turn, gave her a sarcastic smile and a half-serious bow.

"Nice to see you again, too."

Handing his sack over to Hikoshu, Natquik beamed. "Stuck on a bison for weeks with two women. It's either going to be quite exhilarating or quite the nightmare."

Hikoshu rolled his eyes and threw his sack up. "Exhilarating for you, maybe, and a nightmare for everyone else. Get up there." He made a stirrup with his hands so that Natquik could step up, then airbended him the rest of the way into the saddle. He could hear the waterbender's muffled protests as he landed awkwardly.

"Your turn." He looked to Yan-lin, offering a hand to her. But he noticed something in her expression as she stared up at the back of the animal. Something similar to what he often felt. Something like fear.

"Don't worry," he said, though it was weird comforting someone on a phobia he also shared. "It's just a small jump. Kind of like climbing a really furry tree."

She looked at him uncertainly, then, as if realizing how obvious her terror was, trained her face toward apathy as she shoved her pack into his hands. "Giving me words of encouragement, Master Avatar?"

He bended the pack onto the bison, hearing another grunt as it landed, probably on Natquik. "That, and some help." He made another stirrup, beckoning her to step up.

The apprehension returned to her face as she grabbed a handful of fur, placing her foot into his hand. And then she gave a gasp of horror as she flew into the air, tumbling quite ungracefully into the saddle. Another grunt from Natquik followed, though it sounded far less offended this time.

"Great. We really needed another weak-stomach ground-lover," Miyo said, her head hanging around the edge of Rosma's ear. Hikoshu threw her a wry look.

"Well, at least there's someone who makes _me_ look sane." And then he bended himself into the saddle with the others.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Have they already left?"

Kundan turned at the sound of the voice and folded his arms into his robes. The bison had disappeared into the cloud cover, much further than his eyes could follow.

He stepped away from the parapet, moving back toward the cover of the green-tiled eaves. Standing in their indistinct shadow was the Earth Kingdom general, his shoulder pressed against the frame of the entrance.

"Was it really necessary to send your daughter?" the Elder asked as he walked past Gi-Luon, back into the dimly lit room. It was a storage room, barely half full after a hard summer and a long drought. Amidst the pottery and baskets filled with dried fruits and grain, Kundan had doubted anyone would have seen them watching the bison's departure. And there were other storage rooms that the monks would have entered before choosing this one.

Gi-Luon followed him inside. "There wasn't enough time to find anyone else." He lifted a sack of onions, surveying them idly before he dropped them back in their bin. "Yan-lin is a good daughter, though. She will serve the Avatar well."

"To whose benefit?" Kundan asked after checking the door. It wasn't necessary; he was gifted enough in airbending that he could literally hear when air currents shifted. Such as when someone was breathing, or when someone moved. So he knew exactly who was within their proximity – even knew when someone walked by the door.

"Yours, of course." Gi-Luon arched his eyebrows, the thin beard around his mouth curling with his smile. "In appreciation for all the help you've provided Omashu."

"I don't want appreciation." Kundan gave him a disgusted look as he circled around back toward the general. "I just want protection for my Temple. You make sure that the Northern Water Tribe finds its princess and Ba Sing Se stays out of my mountains, and I will help you with whatever you want from the Avatar."

"After the Avatar visits the qu-dan, I'm sure he will find the princess. Then he'll have only the Fire Nation to deal with."

"Another country I wouldn't mind seeing stifled," Kundan muttered, scratching idly at his thick mustache. "Their plan to neutralize the Avatar concerns me. Though he isn't worth much, he's still a symbol of peace. And anyone trying to stop him must not want much of it."

Gi-Luon smiled and walked toward the door, the thin scales of his armor clinking as he moved. "The Avatar is still years away from being a threat to anyone. The Fire Nation is simply trying to keep him that way, long before he's able to stop them from doing it."

Also heading for the door, Kundan waved a hand dismissively. "Perhaps the world would be the better for it. Perhaps we need an opportunity to rely just on ourselves, for once." He signaled for Gi-Luon to wait as he listened for anyone outside. Then, slowly, he opened the door and gestured for the general to leave. "I'll follow in a moment."

"You have done a great deed today, Elder." Gi-Luon gave him a respectful bow, but Kundan only ushered him out.

"Thank me when it's over, General."


	24. Ginger Roots

**Chapter 23 - Ginger Roots**

* * *

"Hey, not bad for a firebender!"

"Not bad for an airbender, too," Hikoshu said, making the blob of water bounce from one palm to the other. "The only way to hold onto this water with the wind."

"Well, learning how to waterbend on the back of a bison isn't the best place," Natquik agreed, scooting next to him. "But you're doing pretty well for someone who couldn't waterbend a bubble a week ago."

"I'm a master at basics." As if to prove his point, he let the water blob bounce high into the air with the intention to juggle it into his other hand. But it was too far, and he lost control. Instead, it splashed square in Natquik's face.

A burst of laughter came from the front of the saddle, and they both looked to see Miyo peering over the edge, a hand clapped to her mouth to hide her amusement.

"Just admiring your fine bending skills," she said with a particularly odd giggle before she disappeared. Frowning, Natquik wiped the water from his face.

"Keep practicing," he muttered and grabbed his water skin. Then, slipping along the saddle like a predator, he snuck up to the front and disappeared over the lip.

Hikoshu rubbed his neck wearily as a screech erupted from the front of the bison, followed by Rosma's very irritated groaning. Realizing he wouldn't be practicing again for a while, he looked about the saddle helplessly. His eyes landed on Yan-lin, who had quietly stowed herself in the back.

She looked an unhealthy green and seemed intent on studying her palms in her lap. Something akin to sympathy filled him, and keeping hold of the saddle, he slid over to her.

"It takes a while to get used to it," he finally said, lowering his head so that she could see him without seeing the horizon. "I've been on one for weeks, and I'm still pretty uncomfortable with looking over the edge."

"Get used to what?" she said too quickly, trying to morph her expression into one of apathy. Hikoshu arched a brow at the attempt, then reached for his satchel.

"I'm sure this is an Earth diplomat thing," he said as he dug around on the bottom of the pack. "Show no sign of weakness. Fire Sages have something of the same philosophy." She looked too sick to respond. "But you really don't have to hide how bad you're feeling. Trust me, they're all used to my reactions by now."

As if to prove his point, Rosma roared and jerked sharply to the left, followed by Hikoshu's stomach, which jerked sharply to the right. Grabbing hold of the saddle, he waited for the blood to return to his head before he twisted toward the front.

"Cut it out, both of you!" Only laughter answered him. With a sigh, he gave Yan-lin a wan smile. "It doesn't help that neither of them seem to care how high up we are." She turned an even stranger color of green at that, but her expression was curious as she watched him, her brown eyes stark against her sallow skin.

That led to an awkward moment between them, which was only broken when Miyo suddenly scrambled into the saddle, her hair falling about her in wet strands, her robes sticking to her limbs. Before he could ask what was happening, she had snatched up her staff, snapping it open, and then jumped off the bison.

Natquik was right behind her, throwing an arm over the saddle lip as he stared after the quickly receding yellow blur. "Now _that's_ cheating!" Pushing himself over the edge, he plopped down into the bamboo carrier and gave them a grin. "We might need to stop and get more water."

Hikoshu returned a withering look. "If Rosma drops us, you're breaking my fall." Rosma, who may have heard that despite the wind, grumbled a possible agreement. Under his reply, though, was another, softer noise, and Hikoshu glanced back to its source. Then he quickly retreated from Yan-lin's heaving form.

Natquik winced, rubbing at his cheek. "Yeah, landing would be a good idea."

Landing actually took a while, as they had to wait for Miyo to come back from her hasty flight – for which Hikoshu kept sparing Natquik admonishing frowns that only made him grin sheepishly. Fortunately, though, Yan-lin was able to keep control of herself until Miyo found a clearing. Even more impressively, she held back her airsickness during the entire descent. When Rosma hit ground next to a river, she toppled out of the saddle without help and disappeared into the woods.

Hikoshu watched her go, distracted, until Miyo called for him. Then, shaking his head, he jumped down to start setting up camp. Which, as always, began with taking care of Rosma.

"I can't believe we only got in a half-day's worth of travel," Miyo muttered as she swung her arms above her head, her fully dry robes shifting around her.

"Look at it this way." Hikoshu stood opposite her, mirroring her every move, and the shadow of the saddle flew over him. "Isn't it nice to do something that's not just sitting on Rosma?" It landed heavily beside them, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"You still need to work on your precision." She floated her staff into her hand and gave the bamboo saddle a hard jab. "If that breaks, we'll have nothing to ride. And if you think the trip has been bad so far…"

"Feel like sparring, then?" He assumed an airbender stance, his palms splayed out in front of him, and quirked his eyebrows invitingly. Miyo gazed at him levelly as she folded her staff under her arm, then gestured to Rosma, who had waded out into the middle of the large, shallow river.

"I feel like you washing Rosma. He hasn't had a bath in weeks."

The bison rumbled and turned his back to them, the water surging in dark brown currents around his six legs. Then, without warning, he raised up his tail and slapped it into the river. In response, the water rushed up and out onto the bank, forming a wave that crested as it raced toward Miyo. She gasped, lifting her glider to knock it away, but it was unnecessary. Abruptly, it curved around her, the water coursing into an unnatural arc that circled past her figure, doubling back, and hit Hikoshu directly in the chest.

The shock was enough to make him stumble backwards, and he fell into the muddy bank of the river.

"Sorry, Hikoshu, didn't see you standing there," Natquik said not three paces from him, crouched by the water as he filled his skin. Hikoshu glowered and slung a muck-filled hand at him, though the mud uselessly fell into the river.

"Though," Natquik continued thoughtfully, stoppering the bladder as he straightened, "I probably should've just let it hit Miyo. You know, for getting Rosma wet earlier. It would've only been fair."

Suddenly, the waterbender staggered forward, his arms flailing as he tripped into the river. He disappeared into the shallow depths, then came up spluttering, his hair over his face. Hikoshu glanced to Miyo, who smirked, her staff held in front of her.

"Help him clean Rosma while you're in there."

Natquik pushed the wet mat out of his face, sparing her a glare, and bended himself to a stand with as much grace as any airbender could have done on land. Then, grabbing at his waist, he sighed and started to search the river for his water skin.

Hikoshu shivered as he watched Natquik. The freezing mountain water had soaked through his coat, and had begun make his fingers turn blue. Yet Natquik didn't seem to mind it at all as he fished out the bladder and tightened the cap, slinging it over his shoulder. In fact, his apparent comfort in the cold gave Hikoshu an excellent opportunity.

"You know, you probably have this handled," Hikoshu said, pressing his fist into his hand. Air swirled around him and spread in a wide arc, pulling the water out from his coat. "And since Rosma doesn't like me and all…"

Natquik stared at him as he wrung water out of a sleeve. "That's a poor excuse."

"I'll think of a better one on dry land." Without waiting for another complaint, he made his way back onto shore, pulling the Water Tribe coat over his head as he walked. The dark red robe that he wore beneath it was still mildly damp, chilling quickly in the crisp autumn air, but at least it wasn't muddy.

"Wash this for me?" He tossed the coat to Miyo as he passed by, and she dropped her staff in order to catch it. Indignant, she threw the furs to her feet.

"I'm not doing your laundry!" she protested, but he was already into the woods, collecting his bag from a pile against a tree. Hikoshu really didn't know if she'd do it, though if she didn't, it didn't really matter. A riverbank would not be the worst thing to happen to any of his clothes out here.

He followed the path that Yan-lin had taken, though honestly, he knew practically nothing about woods. Growing up, he had never ventured very far from the ocean, and while there were ample jungles and dense forests on many of the Fire Nation islands, it was certainly not the case for Misung Island.

So even though he tried to take the path of least resistance, Hikoshu easily lost his bearings among the tall, thin trunks of the Northern valley, their white bark standing out against the dying underbrush. And perhaps he would have continued wandering for years had he not tripped over a giant root.

Which actually turned out to be Yan-lin.

She gave a sharp hiss as he slammed into her calf, and moved closer to the large trunk of a towering tree. Stumbling, Hikoshu caught himself and turned toward her. Her head was bent so low toward her lap, though, that he couldn't make out her face, and her arms were folded tightly around her knees.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Miyo's voice and the loud splashing of Rosma, but it was hardly louder than the rustling of the trees' remnant leaves.

"I was trying to meditate," she said with little conviction, refusing to look up at him. Hesitating, he considered whether or not that was an invitation for him to stay. Then deciding he'd stay anyway, he dropped his pack on the ground.

Hikoshu sat down against a truck opposite her, resting his arms against his knees. Yan-lin gave him a fleeting look of surprise, then returned to her initial solitude, her forehead on her wrists. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"So how are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you." She nearly cut him off, and he had the distinct impression she wasn't fine.

"Any dizzy spells?"

"None at all."

Silence set in after the brief, awkward exchange. Yan-lin hadn't bothered to meet his eyes the entire time, and he found himself wondering if staying had been the right decision.

Trying a new strategy, Hikoshu turned to humor. "It's a good thing you're feeling better. Any more episodes like earlier, and you'd be riding on Rosma's tail from now on." No response. "That was a joke; I don't think Rosma would let anyone near his tail."

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, straightening so that tired eyes gazed on him. Hikoshu scratched at the damp collar of his outer robe and shrugged.

"Just trying to have a nice chat with someone who looks like she needs one."

"Chatting's the last thing I want to do." She'd hidden her head behind her knees again, once more shutting him out. It was such a drastic change from the outgoing, personable girl she'd seemed to be in the past, and not for the first time, Hikoshu thought that maybe women in general were crazy.

"Well, I thought I'd bring you something, too." Pulling his pack close, he dug through it again, just as he had done earlier before Miyo interrupted him. "A welcoming present." He found what he was looking for, and unfolded a small scrap of burlap. On the inside was a dried root, twisted and lumpy, holding up despite the rough treatment.

She studied it from over her knees, then looked at him curiously. "Ginger?"

"I'd make it into a tea if we weren't hiding in the woods," he noted with a hint of dryness. "You can try chewing on the root. It helps a little, though it's not very pleasant-tasting."

Yan-lin grimaced, turning yet another shade of green, and waved the offered gift away. "I don't think I can, thank you." He folded it up and leaned forward to set it in her lap.

"Just keep it, in case the nausea becomes too unbearable. It certainly got me through the first week."

She hesitated, then gave him a feeble smile – the first smile she'd managed all day. "Thank you, Hikoshu. I appreciate it."

He returned it, relieved that her taciturn mood had disappeared, and sat back against the tree. "My pleasure. You're the only guide we have, after all." And once more, they lapsed into silence. Finally realizing that their moment of casual conversation was at an end, Hikoshu let out a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, it's getting kind of cold out here." That was true – he was already freezing through his robes. "I probably need to find some firewood and get back to the river."

"Of course," Yan-lin said quickly, gesturing politely for him to leave. "I'll meet you back at camp."

"After you're done meditating?" he asked as he retrieved his pack, and she grinned up at him weakly.

"Something like that."

"Well, don't wait too long. I don't want you getting lost out here. You now have all of my ginger." And sparing her one more smile, he then turned and slipped back into the dense trees.

But his thoughts weren't so easily drawn away from the subject. The sticks and twigs he gathered for kindling were already well-dried from drought, so his mind freely dwelled on their exchange without serious interruption by his work. She seemed to hate admitting she was weak. Not that he could blame her, though; Hikoshu had hid his own airsickness for years from as many people as he could. But that was because he was supposed to be able to airbend. Yan-lin didn't have the same excuse, and so he wondered if perhaps it was a sign she didn't trust them.

Of course, he still hadn't decided if he could trust her, either.

Such thoughts were running through his mind when he finished with his chores. Forcefully, he had to push the debate from his head as he climbed out of the forest, his arms stacked with wood and his body finally warm with exertion.

Miyo had indeed washed his coat. At least well enough that she could then use it to wash Rosma, whose ears she was now scrubbing vigorously from the top of his head. Upon spying him, Rosma rumbled deeply, and Miyo waved at him snidely. Making a face at the anticipated bison smell that would never come out of the fabric, Hikoshu dropped the wood and began to arrange a fire pit.

"Think fast!" Natquik shouted, which of course meant he didn't have to. Twisting almost mechanically, Hikoshu threw up a blast of air that knocked the surprise attack of water easily into the stack of wood at his feet. He then spared an unamused frown for the waterbender, who grinned back amicably as he trotted from the shore, a gutted calico eel dangling from his fist.

"Why do you keep trying to drench me?" he asked when Natquik neared. "And why would you actually _warn_ me before doing it?"

"Just checking to see if your reflexes are as bad on land as they are on a bison." He bent to capture a rock that Hikoshu had accidentally rolled away with the air blast, then dropped it along with the eel next to the now-soaked fire-stack. "In which case, you definitely needed the warning."

Hikoshu rolled his eyes and ignored the allegation. And by the time Miyo had finished with Rosma, their combined efforts had made an impressive campfire. Even the fine spray of water that the bison airbended off his fur at the river bank did nothing to dampen its flames. Though, much to Hikoshu's frustration, it did manage to dampen him.

As the shadows of the trees grew longer around them, they all – including Rosma – moved closer to the fire. The wind off the surrounding mountains was nearly as cold as the snow melt that supplied the river, and their only source of warmth disappeared with the sun.

Natquik eventually had a makeshift spit set up, which he used to cook slices of the eel he'd caught. The smell disgusted Miyo, who commented loudly on how barbaric it was to eat things that could eat you, and Natquik responded that it was better to eat it first, in that case. Hikoshu was actually too hungry to participate in their argument, his mind focused entirely on the only hot meat he would have since leaving the North Pole. And surprisingly, four years at the Western Air Temple had not even dented his craving.

So concentrated was he on the eel, he didn't immediately notice Yan-lin's approach. He only looked up when Miyo and Natquik stopped fighting, at which point he saw Yan-lin standing above him, her hood over her head and her hands folded together for warmth. The ginger was nowhere to be seen.

Scooting over, Hikoshu motioned for her to take a seat. "You look a little cold."

"Yeah. I've never handled these late season changes very well." She gave him a grateful smile as she sat beside him. "I don't think I would've found you had it not been for the fire."

"So if you're not much for cold weather," Miyo suddenly said, using a stick to poke at a clay pot buried in coals alongside the fire, "why are you a diplomat for the North?"

"There was no one else?" Yan-lin made the statement with such a straight face, Hikoshu thought for a moment she wasn't joking. And as her expression didn't change, he quickly realized she really wasn't. "Omashu's long included the Northwest Territory in diplomatic talks, but only recently have we begun sending actual representatives to the North. We were afraid for the longest time it'd be viewed with hostility by Ba Sing Se."

Having donned his coat again, Natquik leaned back on his hands. "And it hasn't?" Yan-lin gave him an unconcerned shrug and pulled her hat off of her head.

"Well, there's a reason the representatives are all young or old women. To avoid giving Ba Sing Se the impression that we're recruiting men to our own military and building a northern defense."

"But you are," Hikoshu reminded her, his memory flying back to the Earth Cleric's home and the distinct lack of young men at the celebration. Suddenly, he was on guard, as Yan-lin once more transformed from a quirky girl to an Omashu diplomat. Back to that part of her he'd come to like so little.

She glanced at him and Miyo uncertainly, as if gauging how honest she should be about it. Miyo, in turn, kept her eyes focused on the pot of bubbling porridge, her expression empty. "It is the stance of Omashu," Yan-lin began slowly, weighing each word carefully as she spoke, "that the Northwest Territory should be able to defend itself from attack. We've not been organizing an Omashu military. We have simply been empowering the people there to protect themselves."

"Against Ba Sing Se," Hikoshu pressed, studying her suspiciously.

"If Ba Sing Se were to try to invade, yes."

"So you're trying to make Ba Sing Se believe you're not doing exactly what you are doing."

Yan-lin straightened her back, visibly bristling at his tone. "You spend an awful lot of time defending Ba Sing Se, Avatar."

"What does Taku have to say about this?" Natquik interrupted them, drawing surprised looks from both Hikoshu and Miyo. He frowned at their expressions. "What? I'm not so insular that I don't know the port cities."

"Taku is happy to have the means to protect itself and its neighbors," Yan-lin said smoothly, apparently not as startled as they at his knowledge.

Hikoshu felt his stomach twist unpleasantly at the implication behind that statement. "Is 'means' another word for 'weapons'?"

"Could you please stop correcting me?" She rounded on him with a glare, and for the first time that he'd seen, she actually seemed to be losing her temper. "Contrary to what you believe, I am not here to covertly dress every action of my government with the false trappings of legitimacy. It might surprise you, but not every ruling body is full of evil people intent on destroying other countries."

"In fact, that _does_ surprise me," he said sharply, her sudden rancor offending him in ways he didn't completely understand. Perhaps because she was acting so dishonest. Or perhaps because her comment had struck too close to home. Too close to the lies he'd uncovered about his own country. "How many wars and near-wars has the Earth Kingdom participated in during the last century?"

"And how many people have you sanctioned to the point of starvation, Avatar?" She nearly spat the words, her voice full of venom. "As far as I know, _you've_ killed more people in the last half-century from your misguided attempts at justice than Omashu has in twice as long."

"Stop it, both of you," Miyo said sharply, though it certainly didn't stop his building anger, his eyes never leaving Yan-lin. She stared at him with equal ferocity, her lips tight and her face bright red in the firelight. "Reliving past events neither of you were actually alive for is not going to magically resolve anything."

"_Neither_ of us was alive for?" Yan-lin asked with bitter sarcasm, looking in frank disgust to Miyo. "The Avatar doesn't need you to make excuses for him. I'm sure he can do that just as well himself."

Hikoshu felt his face grow hot with pent-up fury, his temper quickly gaining the best of him. And though he tried hard to fight it back into the cool, collected mind of an impartial observer, the efforts made his anger flare even more.

Before he could answer – as if he could answer with any type of rationality – the campfire suddenly sprang into an inferno. Everyone except Hikoshu jerked back, their hands up to protect themselves from the heat. Hikoshu stared at it in shock, his anger fading as he realized that he'd just lost control of his _chi_. He hadn't lost control since he was a kid – and it worried him a bit that it had happened so easily. In response to his dying ire, the flames died as well, though Natquik's spit remained ablaze, the eel with it.

Natquik, who had up to this point been discreetly trying to back out of the circle and the argument, suddenly gasped in horror and dove to rescue his meal. The result was that he grabbed the burning spit. Giving a yelp of pain, he dropped the food into the fire and retreated, his hand clasped to his chest.

Hikoshu was dumbfounded. "Why did you just do that?"

"What else are we going to eat?" he asked sullenly, huddled over his hand. "Miyo's rice slop?"

"It's better than your Water Tribe plant soup," she muttered, scooting toward him. Hikoshu looked to Yan-lin, and saw that she was studying the fire with a mixture of fear and deep thought. She slowly turned that expression on him, her eyes almost accusatory. Abruptly, Hikoshu felt guilt well up in him, his conscience demanding he say something apologetic.

"Listen," he began hesitantly, deciding to at least offer an explanation, "I can see you obviously don't think much of—" He was interrupted by a second yelp.

"Stop pulling your hand away," Miyo said, trying to force Natquik's hand near the fire so she could examine it. He, however, seemed uninterested in getting any closer to the flames, pushing her off him with his uninjured hand.

"Just leave it alone!"

Hikoshu watched them dully as the wrestling match continued, Miyo wrapping herself around his arm as Natquik struggled to get away from her, and even at that distance, he could tell the burn wasn't that bad.

"Why don't you just heal yourself?" he finally asked, his perfectly logical suggestion nearly overwhelmed by their quarreling. At least, he supposed, their flirting had delayed the awkward conversation he would inevitably have to have with Yan-lin. He gladly welcomed any excuse to put it off.

Natquik stopped fighting and looked at Hikoshu in innocent surprise, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him yet. Which, of course, it probably _had_ occurred to him, though maybe not to Miyo. His decreased struggling gave her a chance to examine his palm, however, and upon determining that it really wasn't that bad, she dropped his hand in disgust and climbed away.

"I didn't know you were such a child," she said darkly as she used a stick to dig through the ashes, searching out her pot of porridge. "And you're not getting any of my congee." Natquik moped, only half facetiously, and cradled his hand.

"Could I ask you something, _ilinniaqtuq_ Natquik?" Yan-lin said, her argument with Hikoshu apparently forgotten. Natquik looked up at her, grimacing as he finally dropped the pretense of an injured palm.

"Just call me Natquik. I haven't been an apprentice in years."

"But you still wear the apprentice's coat." She indicated his parka and the white strips that only reached to his waist. He glanced down as if remembering that he actually wore it.

"Well, I can't really wear a layperson's coat, can I? And I'm not married yet, so…" Natquik shrugged uncomfortably. "It's just a coat. That's all. What'd you want to ask?" His abrupt return to the original subject didn't go unnoticed.

"About your bending. I've heard it said that you're one of the most gifted healers the Water Tribe has seen in centuries."

"Well, I don't like to brag…"

Hikoshu exchanged a weary look with Miyo. It was true; he didn't brag often. But he didn't need to. The waterbender's self-confidence more than made up for any lack of verbal reminders. Besides, Hikoshu still wanted to see how 'healing' was a measurable talent before he'd accept Natquik's claims to super-bending prowess.

"I was wondering, then, how exactly healing works," Yan-lin continued.

Natquik's puffed-up pride seemed to deflate at the request for a demonstration, his brow furrowed, casting odd shadows over his eyes. "Well, it's a little difficult to put in words."

"Please, humor me?"

Hikoshu again looked at Miyo, her own eyebrows raised in shock. They hadn't quite expected Yan-lin to challenge Natquik, and despite the anger that seethed just below the surface of his mind, he actually was amused by her request.

"Alright," Natquik said after some hesitation, then pulled out his water bladder and wedged it between his knees. Unstoppering it, he bended out some water, wrapping it around his slightly burned hand. "So, you understand _chi_, I'm sure. The vital essence that gives us life, all that spiritual stuff?" His palm began to glow white as the skin healed itself, and the water trickled away. "_Chi_ interacts very carefully with our bodies, flowing in channels to every major organ and extremity. Hands, liver, hair. Everything is fed by _chi_."

Tugging on his sleeves, he removed his coat and threw it behind him. Then he removed a knife from a sheath in his belt and flipped it over in his fingers. "And when _chi_ flows properly, you're healthy. But when it's disturbed…" Before anyone could think to stop him, he pulled the fabric of his robes down his shoulder, exposing the dark skin below, and sliced into it. Blood sprang up immediately, black in the firelight. "…then you have illness. Here, I've just disrupted my _chi_. I've interfered with its path, and if it's not fixed – either by me or by itself – the wound will become infected, possibly killing me in the process."

"Which is the least you'd deserve for cutting yourself on purpose," Miyo interrupted, chastising, as she bended the steam off the top of her congee. "Is the visual guide really necessary?"

"I don't know, Miyo, I'd like to see where he's going with this," Hikoshu added in amusement, shooting her a grin. She returned it wryly.

"If you don't mind?" Natquik said to draw their attention back to him as he gestured toward his shoulder. "I'm still bleeding." Miyo rolled her eyes and gestured for him to continue. "So how do you heal something like this? Well, if the problem is a disruption in _chi_, the solution is to restore _chi_ to its original state."

"Yes," Yan-lin said, somewhat impatiently. "I understand how _chi_ works. What I'm asking is how waterbending can fix _chi_." Natquik held up a finger for her to wait, then bended more water out of the bladder between his knees, again covering his hand.

"Like I said before, _chi_ interacts with everything in our bodies. Well, believe it or not, but our bodies are made of water. A _lot_ of water. And the _chi_ courses with it. So by using water as a catalyst," at this point, he placed his hand over the wound, the water again glowing white where he touched, "as well as directing water already present to the site of injury, I can literally direct the _chi_ where I want it. More concentrated _chi_, more healing." He pulled away his hand, bending the remnant water with it. The skin underneath was flawless – uninjured. "Simple as that."

"So you can manipulate _chi_?" Yan-lin asked with some confusion, and he shook his head as he threw the blood-tinged water away.

"I can manipulate water. _Chi_ just comes with the territory. I can't manipulate, say, the _chi _from this fire. That's something Hikoshu can do. Obviously." Hikoshu gave Natquik a guilty look, holding up his hands as if to deny any part in the lecture.

"So if you can heal people by manipulating their _chi_," Yan-lin said, bemused, and hastily corrected: "I mean their _water_, then does that mean you also have the chance of hurting people by manipulating it?"

They were all silent to begin with, but the air around them suddenly became solemn. It was as if everything outside the fire had stopped moving, though Hikoshu could hear the distant river. But the abrupt change in both Miyo and Natquik suggested that a certain boundary had been transgressed.

"No one does that," Natquik finally said, his tone somber. "We don't do that."

"If it's possible, they wouldn't do it anyway." Miyo glanced up from her congee, her gaze taking in both Hikoshu and Yan-lin. "Mostly because it's against all morality."

Natquik stoppered the bladder, his eyebrows arched at Miyo. "You know Water Tribe taboos?"

"No," she said, eating a dollop of rice pudding with her finger. "Air Nomads have their own taboos."

So did the Fire Nation. So did every country, Hikoshu supposed. In the Fire Temples, there was a rarely-discussed but much-rumored technique that involved burning a man from the inside out. He knew it was possible, knew that if he considered it for long enough, he could figure out exactly how to do it. But the thoughts were all laced with inhumanity – with such savagery that he shied away from considering it.

Still, there was a morbid allure in understanding the forbidden.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Yan-lin said, bowing her head in apology. Natquik waved it off as he retrieved his coat.

"You don't learn if you don't ask, right?" His voice was muffled under the furs, his dark head popping up a second later. "I'm sure I'll probably say something offensive at some point, too."

"At some point?" Miyo asked sarcastically, shoving the clay pot toward him with her foot. "Here, eat."

Hikoshu opened his mouth, prepared to protest the fact she wasn't offering him any. Then, thinking better at the sight of the white mush, he stood up instead. Having lived in the Air Temple for so many years, he'd developed an inherent distaste for congee.

"I'm off to bed." The other three people stared up at him, perhaps not anticipating he'd turn in so early. "Have to go find my coat first." A pointed look to Miyo, who impressively held back a smirk. "Good night, all. It's been enlightening. And…bloody." Natquik held up two-fingers' worth of congee in salute, which he then ate with a grimace.

Rosma rumbled comfortably as he walked past the bison, though it certainly didn't encourage him to try petting him. He knew exactly how large those teeth were, so he left Rosma to his reverie, his six legs hanging in the air as he twisted heavily onto his back. Past him, the river rushed under the moon, and Hikoshu could barely make out the light-hued shape of his coat, discarded casually near the river bank. Most likely, it smelled like bison _and_ it was wet.

He wasn't more than a few paces past Rosma and outside the ring of the firelight when he heard someone approach, their footfalls soft on the dirt. Glancing back, he easily recognized Yan-lin's diminutive height, her figure dark despite the light of a clear sky and a half moon.

When she realized he'd seen her, she quickly began speaking, perhaps concerned he wouldn't let her say her piece. "Hikoshu, listen, I'm sorry."

He turned to her, lifting a flame both to make out her face and to give himself some relief from the cold that'd set in since leaving the campsite. In the light, her eyes glinted up at him, apologetic and demure. A rather surprising expression, given how aloof she'd acted during the altercation.

"Apologize if you want. You still believe all those things you said." It wasn't a question, and she didn't treat it as one, ducking her head in something resembling shame.

"Of course, I do. But I'm sorry for saying them."

Hikoshu stared at her, then gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too." She glanced up at him from under her lowered forehead, both hesitant and curious. "And I can respect your honesty, even if I can't respect your opinions."

She sighed and shook her head, pulling her cap back over her hair. "I don't want to fight you. That doesn't help anyone."

"Yan-lin, I'm tired. I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?" He extinguished the fire and started to leave, but she grabbed his arm, forcing him once more to turn back to her.

"Will we ever be friends, Hikoshu?"

His eyesight was momentarily wiped out by the former flame, but he could still make out the shape of her upturned head. And he imagined how earnest she must look, how desperate for some words of forgiveness.

"Good night, Yan-lin."

By the time he recovered his coat, she was already gone.


	25. The Chief

**Chapter 24 - The Chief**

* * *

"Chief Tuluk!"

It was rather pointless calling attention to himself. The Chief's boat had docked, as befitted him, at the Royal Port of the Fire Palace. And the only one waiting on that particular dock was Himizu, garbed in the traditional – and heavy – Fire Sage robes, his gray hair pulled up into the traditional topknot, bearing the traditional hairpiece of the Great Sage, the two thin tendrils of his traditional mustache blending in a probably traditional way into his thick beard.

Whatever would convince the Chief that this meeting would be nothing out of the ordinary.

But as Himizu made his way to the end of the wide dock, Tuluk looked far from trusting, his large frame jumping agilely off the boat before his crew could even set up a plank for disembarking. He easily stood a head or two taller than Himizu, dispelling the typical belief of the Water Tribesmen as short people, and his blue robes shifted over his body as solid muscles rolled under them. Not yet out of his thirties, the Chief was an incredibly intimidating man.

He caught one of the packs thrown down by a crewmate, then nearly rounded on Himizu, his dark skin making his pale blue eyes a thousand times fiercer than they may have actually been. "Let's make this quick. Where are my daughter and wife's brother?"

"Uh…yes." Himizu drew back unconsciously, the abruptness catching him off-guard. There were formalities that were internationally recognized, and in mere moments, Tuluk had thrown those into the bay. This left the Sage at a loss for words – how to address a man who obviously had no time for diplomacy? "As much as I would like to answer your question, I'm afraid it's a little too…complicated for a short response. Would you care to accompany me into the Fire Palace?"

Himizu bowed deeply, holding out a hand in invitation toward the large, gold-and-red palace that loomed in the distance, separated from them by a cream-colored wall topped with turrets. As Tuluk had never been to the Fire Nation, it was unlikely he had seen such a sight before. Only Ba Sing Se could compare in grandeur to the skyline of the Fire Palace.

But if the Chief was impressed, he made no sign of it. With an angry huff, he shouted at his men to stay with the boat, the movement of his head snapping the thousands of beads that decorated his hair, and started down the dock in huge, ground-swallowing steps.

It took Himizu a moment to catch up, exertion and the heat of his heavy robes multiplying the effects of old age. Keeping his breath under control, he took the moment to introduce himself to the fierce Water Tribe Chief. "I've not had the chance to make your acquaintance. I am the Great Sage Himizu, leader of the Five Fire Temples and the—"

"When will I speak to Kanzagan?" Tuluk said curtly.

Himizu hesitated, trying to push his temper back under control. What savagery! Even in situations such as these, there was a decorum that must be recognized. Failure to do so led to misunderstandings and chaos. But maybe the Water Tribes didn't value things such as 'order' and 'civility.' He forced himself to be more tolerant of these different ways, which he may not understand.

"I should like to answer your questions when we are in a more private area," he said, allowing himself to sound a little curt, too. "These discussions are not for open spaces."

Tuluk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then nodded, satisfying himself that there would, in fact, be answers. Even he seemed to understand the need for discretion here.

There was no more conversation between them as they entered the Palace through the West Gate – the Ancestors' Gate – its blue-and-gold-laquered dragons looming over them, their claws protectively framing the massive gold portal. Tuluk still seemed too focused to be impressed, every step directly behind Himizu's. Nor when they entered the Wing of Sota did he even glance up at the red-tiled roofs or terraces of polished marble. It was as if he wore blinders to the unrivaled architecture, and Himizu once more was led to the conclusion he had to be a savage.

There were many rooms in the Wing of Sota, and for all Tuluk would know, they could any one of them be the Fire Lord's Hall. But it was an administrative wing, not nearly as grand as the Lord's Palace, which itself lay more deeply buried inside the compound that was the Fire Palace. This was a wing that was reserved almost entirely for Himizu's purpose, and so he took Tuluk to the most impressive room at the end of the hall.

When he opened the door, Tuluk strode in with purpose, his shoulders taut as if ready for battle. But he slowed to a stop upon realizing that there was no one else inside the chamber. Himizu smiled and removed his stiff, rhino leather sandals before entering. Then he proceeded to the center of the room, taking a seat on the opposite side of a very long, very low-set table.

Tuluk looked thoroughly confused as he glanced about the room, perhaps expecting someone to jump out from behind the four large sourwood columns in each corner. When he seemed satisfied that they were alone – after looking out each of the two cracked shoji doors just to make sure – he eventually took a seat on one of the cushions across from Himizu, his mouth set in a frown.

"I do not see Fire Lord Kanzagan here, unless the last fifteen years have been unkind to him."

Himizu smiled politely at the poke at his age and shook his head. "You are quite correct, Chief Tuluk. Fire Lord Kanzagan is not here, nor will he be." Clearing his throat and softening his voice, he ducked his head as if to maintain some secrecy. "Fire Lord Kanzagan died a month ago. His son Nizan has been made Fire Lord since."

The news somehow didn't faze him. "Then why am I not speaking to this Fire Lord Nizan?"

Himizu hesitated, then revealed as candidly as possible, "Fire Lord Nizan is not quite ready to handle such sensitive matters of foreign policy as this. He has given me authority to speak on behalf of the Fire Nation, and I feel I may be able to answer your questions as thoroughly as you desire."

"I have no questions, simply demands. Which I'm sure you will be as equally qualified to meet." The Chief leaned across the table in a threatening manner, the strange dark blue wool of his robes shifting along his arms as he pressed a wrapped hand against the wood. "I will have my daughter and my wife's brother, and I will leave. And you will make that happen."

Managing another polite smile, Himizu folded his hands in his lap, his ring of the Fire Sigil digging painfully into his other palm as he secretly vented frustration. This man was side-stepping all attempts at diplomacy by making demands in a nation where he did not hold sovereignty. The impropriety was shocking at the very least. But more importantly, Himizu had to reevaluate on what level to deal with the Chief.

"I wish that were one request I could manage," he finally said, spreading his palms along the table. "Unfortunately, there has been miscommunication, and that matter must be handled first." Tuluk remained quiet, but the hard edges of his face grew more severe as his brow darkened.

"We do not have your daughter or brother-by-marriage," Himizu continued.

Tuluk didn't snap at the declaration, though Himizu had half-imagined he would. Still, his frame changed such that he could easily leap over the table and strangle him. And the Sage didn't doubt he would've had it been convenient.

"The individuals who have kidnapped your family members," Himizu pressed on, "as far as we can tell, belong to a rebel group that has been undermining the government for over a decade." He took the moment to draw a scroll from the small pile of papers he had sorted carefully under the table specifically for this meeting. Unrolling it, he slipped it toward Tuluk, tapping the paper as he did so. "We intercepted this message from one of their ships just two days ago."

Tuluk didn't take the letter, though his eyes scanned the characters, his expression darkening even more. The message said something to the effect of how the "Water Tribe hostages" were doing, as well as other details relating to nothing but carrying the weight of importance. Designed to give this man the impression that an invisible foe had his family.

"Why would I believe this?" He grabbed up the scroll and tossed it back at Himizu dismissively. "The Fire Nation is well-known for its lies and deceptions against the Water Tribes."

"Deceptions from a half-century ago, when both you and I were barely children." He smiled to himself. "Well, at least I was. The fact is, the Fire Nation has nothing to gain in abducting your family. Perhaps forty years ago, we had…misguided reasons for doing what we did. But why would the Fire Nation, particularly after such a great misfortune as losing our own leader, risk the wrath of the Northern Water Tribe now?"

Tuluk slowly leaned away from the table, folding his arms over his very large, very muscular chest. "The witnesses of my daughter's crew who were seized and later released stated that the Fire Navy ship wanted a waterbending master for the Avatar." He paused for emphasis. "The _Fire_ Avatar."

The fools. This was the work of the isolationists, wanting to train the Avatar here in the Fire Nation. Unfortunately, one of them – he wasn't sure who yet – had reached Nizan with the plans, and manipulated the former Prince into staging the abduction. The Prince, at this point, listened to anyone who sounded more authoritative than he. Himizu was working hard to rectify that.

But the kidnapping had eventually panned out for Himizu, as things usually did. Now he could invent an invisible rebel group for the Water Tribe to focus on and develop a trap to bring the Avatar home. So far, the latter seemed to be working.

He now only needed to secure the former.

"As far as we're aware," Himizu said, drawing invisible lines on the table to demonstrate his point, "the leaders of this rebel group are intent on inciting violence between our two countries. We're not sure if they wish to do this in order to cause hardship on the Fire Nation citizens, or simply to distract us. They captured two Fire Navy vessels last year, which we assumed they would use to sneak into the Capital's ports. However, they have not done so." He pinned Tuluk with a gaze full of gravity. "We think they've been planning this for some time."

"And again, I'm brought to the same conclusion as before," Tuluk said, his voice filling with mock wonderment. "Never trust a firebender."

"You obviously trust us to some degree." Himizu had to control himself to keep from snapping at the Chief. "You are here alone, when you suspect we've taken your family."

"I am no coward." The words held a hint of threat, as if Himizu was overstepping some line to imply such a thing.

He nodded. "You aren't. But you understand that if we wanted to be duplicitous, seizing you now would not be difficult. Still, here you are. And you will leave here, also." Taking a breath, he reached for a few more scrolls, procuring them on the wood before the Chief as he sifted through them carefully. "The Fire Nation is _very_ sorry for the grief this has brought to your family as well as the Water Tribes. Therefore, we will extend to you all the resources you need for capturing the responsible parties and bringing them to justice."

He slid one of the scrolls to Tuluk, its official Fire Seal glinting in the light of the shoji doors. "Ships, men, whatever you need. Fire Navy Admiral Kuzon is authorized to heed your commands and help you in any way possible."

Tuluk didn't even look at the official decree, his hard blue eyes leveled squarely on Himizu. "This is how the game is to be played?"

"Surely you didn't think it would be as easy as walking into the Fire Nation and just demanding your family back." Himizu allowed himself one mocking comment, though he kept it from showing on his face.

Tuluk studied him for a moment more, his expression nearly unreadable. Then, slowly, he took the scroll. "I won't need your men. I'll find resources in the South Pole and return with them. But," and here he leaned forward again, giving Himizu the full effect of his glare, "if we discover that the Fire Nation – or more specifically you – lied to us, then the Fire Nation – and more specifically _you_ – will learn how we seek retribution."

Smiling politely once more, Himizu nodded. He was intimidated – it was hard not to be when such a large, violent-looking man was threatening him. But there was simply no other response he could give. "I hope our two countries may resolve this issue peacefully."

Tuluk gave an unconvinced grunt, crossing his arms once more, and Himizu realized the talks had gone as far as they could. With a weary look to the stack of scrolls, he pushed them aside and stood. "We've arranged quarters for you and your crew, if you care to spend the evening," Himizu said, half-expecting they would. But Tuluk waved him off as he moved smoothly to his feet, as well.

"I have no desire to stay here longer than necessary."

Himizu nodded again, and a moment later, he'd led Tuluk to the door, where a servant – alerted by their earlier arrival – now waited to show the Chief out. As soon as he left, Himizu let out a sigh and closed the door.

Tuluk was, momentarily, no longer a problem. All that was left now was to find Hikoshu. The Avatar was somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, his current location unknown. But, hopefully, soon, he would be headed directly to the Fire Nation.

And to Himizu.

**

* * *

A/N: **Chapter edited on the suggestions of a very nice reviewer via PM. Thanks for being so awesome! :)

The same reviewer commented on the awkwardness of the term "wife's brother" - a term used by Tuluk to refer to his brother-in-law. And I'm glad that person noticed it, because I can say a word about it. To keep the explanation short, he uses it because the Water Tribes have very specific terms for family members. "Wife's brother" is different from "sister's husband," which is the same in English - "brother-in-law." As he doesn't come from a society that recognizes the catch-all term "brother-in-law," or standard laws altogether, he wouldn't think to use that. "Wife's brother" is literally what he calls his brother-in-law, like you would call your aunt 'aunt' or your cousin 'cousin.' Himizu recognizes how awkward it sounds, though, and that's why he says "your brother-by-marriage." ...ie, brother-in-law.


	26. Practice

**Chapter 25 - Practice**

* * *

Miyo sat at the edge of the short cliff, her back straight and the knuckles of her fists pressed together in her lap. As her eyes were barely open, she couldn't see the world around her. But she could _feel _it. The cold of the mountain winds battling the heat of the afternoon sun, the smell of pine and blue juniper filtering through them, the sounds of dead leaves and birds that hadn't quite left yet for the winter. All of these sensations, she assembled and incorporated into her meditation, thriving on the subtle energy that they gave her. Her mind was clear, as empty as the sky.

Except for when the occasional splashing and subsequent laughter floated up to her, breaking all concentration she had. Each time, she would crack an eye and look down the cliff to study the two half-naked men who practiced at the river side below her. Stripped of all but their pants, they walked through various bending techniques, Natquik showing one and Hikoshu following. In response, water would move from the foaming rapids of the small river and mimic their dictations, the liquid coursing and flipping, distorting the men's bodies as it moved about them.

And she was finding it very hard to focus.

Once more, she lectured herself, insisting that she should move to somewhere less distracting. It was the first chance she'd had in the week since leaving the Northern Air Temple to meditate, and she wasn't sure when she would have another. But then the boys would laugh, and she would go back to staring, and the pattern would repeat itself.

After an entirely too-long period of distraction, Yan-lin appeared, crawling along the stone to reach her. And though she still wanted to meditate, Miyo welcomed a break from watching the two men practice.

"Trying to concentrate?" the other girl asked with a breathless smile, strands of her hair falling loose from the now familiar braid. She perched next to Miyo and folded her legs under her.

"Trying," Miyo agreed, finally abandoning the meditative posture. "It's not going so well today."

"I bet Natquik and Hikoshu aren't helping." Yan-lin gestured vaguely at the two of them. "You probably don't see too many undressed men at the Air Temple."

Miyo shot her a candid grin. "You haven't lived with Hikoshu. When he first came to the Temple, he'd practice in as little clothing as possible. You couldn't get him to admit it now, but I suspect he hadn't had many girls to impress back in the Fire Nation." That made Yan-lin laugh, and then they both settled into silence as they watched the boys practice.

The two certainly presented a contrast. Hikoshu was tall, his shoulders square and broad. And he was well-muscled, conditioned from years of exercises that emphasized strength and speed. Every movement of his was coordinated to hit the right spot and hit it hard, and even as he practiced another bending form, he still seemed to carry over that reliance on force.

Natquik, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He was shorter, leaner, and darker. The well-defined muscles on Hikoshu weren't so obvious on Natquik, their lines blending smoothly into each other in a manner that might've underemphasized his strength. The way he moved was perhaps not as quickly or as sharp as Hikoshu, but it was definitely more fluid. As he shifted through the stances, he seemed to be flowing—seemed to follow an invisible wave that made him ripple as if he really were water, himself.

"He's handsome, isn't he?" Yan-lin suddenly said, and Miyo looked at her in surprise as she quickly scrambled for a response.

"Well, I imagine he is, for a Water Tribesman. He did seem pretty popular with the women at the North Pole."

Yan-lin stared back curiously. "I was talking about Hikoshu."

"Oh." And, nodding as objectively as possible, she struggled to hold back a blush. "Yes, I suppose he's attractive, too. Or at least I used to think so."

"You don't think so anymore?"

"No, no," Miyo stumbled, watching Hikoshu thoughtfully. He lost control of a blob of water, which splashed loudly on the ground, and Natquik laughed at him. "He still is. I guess I just haven't thought about him like that in a long time." She glanced suspiciously at Yan-lin. "But I'm getting the impression you do?"

Yan-lin shrugged noncommittally and changed the subject. "You two must be pretty good friends."

"The best. It's hard to imagine life without him, now." It was true. Even though they'd been friends only for three years, she couldn't remember what it was like before he lived at the Temple. Having Hikoshu around was as natural as breathing, or thinking. Though often far more annoying. "Do you have any friends like that, Yan-lin?"

Again, that evasive shrug. "I travel too much for close friends. Mostly just other politicians, my father's military cohorts, the like."

"Well. They must be interesting." Actually, it sounded very uninteresting, and Miyo felt pity for the poor girl, even if she didn't look like she wanted it.

Yan-lin frowned at her, as if detecting patronization in her tone. "I find close connections muddle up my work. My father always said that friends can get in the way of business. And we're not in the business to make friends."

Miyo may have been wrong, but she had always assumed that was the very point of diplomacy. Still, she kept the thought to herself. "Don't you ever get lonely, having no one to talk to?"

"Do you talk to Hikoshu?" she said, changing the subject again. She certainly didn't seem to like talking about herself.

"About everything." Miyo then shifted her body so that she faced her companion in order to voice the concern that had been bothering her for the week they'd been traveling. "Except one thing." Yan-lin looked up at her curiously and straightened as she noticed the gravity in Miyo's words.

"I know about the qu-dan," Miyo continued. "And not just whatever you've told Hikoshu. I know who the qu-dan is. Or at least something of _what _she is."

Yan-lin nodded, nonplussed. "I figured as an Air Nomad, you might."

"What I don't know is why no one is telling him the whole story. No one's told him how she can help him, or how she probably won't."

The other girl's face never changed, but something about her eyes did. They grew calculating, as they often did when Yan-lin seemed to pick over what her next words would be. They held the pragmatism of a politician working his next lie. "And why haven't you?"

"I assume there must be a good reason you're keeping the truth from him. Why we're on some fool's errand, when an airbender's life in the North hangs on a deadline."

"The qu-dan," Yan-lin said carefully, her words obviously measured and weighed before she chose them, "admittedly is hard to understand. But apparently, she's the most knowledgeable in the area that Hikoshu's pursuing. And telling him that there's a good chance he may not get the information he wants and an even better chance he'll get information he doesn't want…it may discourage him. What he needs now is hope."

"How can you know what he needs?" Miyo didn't keep the suspicion out of her voice. "What is _your_ motivation in this?"

"I'm just a guide, Miyo," she said, raising her hands defensively. "I'm not here to do anything but show you the way. The Elders at the Northern Air Temple, though, seemed to believe that the qu-dan is the solution to whatever his problem is, and I know that telling him what you and I know about the qu-dan may make him reconsider their advice. So what do we do? What's the point of telling him what he doesn't want to hear when it's apparently the only control he feels he has over a powerless situation?"

Miyo looked over the cliff again, quietly considering Hikoshu's back as he copied Natquik. As he bended the water, she could see him struggle to keep it tightly in rein. He often claimed his greatest fear was of heights. But she knew him well enough to know what he really was afraid of—a loss of control. Perhaps it was from years of firebending, where control was necessary even in the most basic of training exercises. Perhaps it was just his personality. Whatever it was, she'd only seen him at his worst when he felt powerless. Was it smart to take away the one thing that empowered him, right now when he felt his power being most threatened? After all, there was _still_ a chance that the qu-dan could help him. Was there any sense in taking away what hope he had?

"I'm warning you, Yan-lin, if he is somehow hurt during all of this…" It was an empty threat, and Yan-lin seemed to know it. What could she do that didn't violate the Air Nomad adherence to non-violence? Just the threat itself was trespassing boundaries she didn't feel comfortable encroaching.

"I won't let anything happen to him," Yan-lin reassured her anyway. She gave Miyo an encouraging smile. "He's the Avatar, after all."

Uncertainly, Miyo looked out on the river again to Hikoshu as he practiced. Natquik managed to knock him off-balance; Hikoshu was never very good at distributing his weight during counter-attacks. His arms waving, he stumbled to get his feet underneath him, and Miyo marveled at how someone could be so clumsy after so many years of airbending training. If only he'd learned to fly, perhaps he wouldn't be falling right now.

And the thought sparked something in her mind, causing her to snap her attention back on Yan-lin. "What are you doing here?"

She gave Miyo a startled look. "Talking to you?"

"On top of a cliff? I thought you couldn't stand heights." Miyo was abruptly on guard, the hairs rising on the back of her neck at the scene. Yan-lin's eyes clouded in recognition, and she held up her hands again as if to calm the storm that was about to break.

"No, I can stand heights. I just can't stand flying. Something about the motion of the bison that high off the ground makes me sick." Then quickly she added, "Why would I have been at the Northern Air Temple if I can't stand heights?"

Miyo studied her suspiciously for a moment more, then dropped the inquisition. She'd heard of individuals who only disliked flying before, and Yan-lin had apparently become less sickened by it in the last week. Hikoshu, on the other hand, had taken weeks to adjust to the bison. Perhaps a fear of flying was easier to adjust to than a fear of heights.

"Miyo!" The shout drew her attention back to the river, and she saw Hikoshu and Natquik staring at her, their faces hard to read at that distance. Hikoshu cupped a hand to his mouth. "What are you doing up there?"

"Just talking to—" she began to gesture toward Yan-lin, but stopped upon noticing that she had taken her leave. In fact, she'd moved so fast that she wasn't visible at all. Miyo leaned back to look behind several of the large boulders that lined the steep path to the cliff, but there was nothing.

"Giving us an audience?" Natquik supplied, posing dramatically for her. Miyo couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Natquik, you're your own audience!" she shouted back as she reached for her glider. "I was meditating."

"You know you were watching me!" He was a hopeless flirt. Hikoshu turned to say something to him, which Miyo couldn't hear but which she assumed was along the lines of 'she's a nun, Natquik.' In turn, the waterbender shrugged.

"Yeah, I was watching you." She stood, snapping open her glider. "And you need to work on your floating-hands technique." Natquik stared at her, then looked to Hikoshu. The latter man said something quietly, probably in explanation, and he nodded.

"Care to show me how it's done?"

Tired of shouting back-and-forth, Miyo took to the air, wrapping her feet around the staff as it hit the wind. She didn't even need to bend; the glider easily rode the currents to the earth, and with minimal effort, she landed on the rocky bank next to them, folding her glider up and under her arm.

At close range, they looked a lot sweatier than they had at a distance, both men's loose hair sticking to their ears and necks. Breathing heavily, Natquik signaled for her to step forward.

"Let's see what you have, airbender. Show Hikoshu which bending art's superior."

"Don't need to," Hikoshu interrupted, crouching to pick up his robes from a neighboring rock. "I already know it's firebending. Besides, she's not going to fight you."

"You're not going to fight me?" Natquik looked hurt.

"You're a healer," Miyo said dismissively, shrugging. "It'd be embarrassing for me to beat you." Now he really did look hurt.

"Come on. Just one go. First person off-balance loses."

"I'm telling you, she won't do it," Hikoshu repeated as he slipped one robe over his shoulders. "I've been trying for years to get her to spar with me."

That caused her to snort. "Well, you're the Avatar. Beating you would be embarrassing, but not for me."

Hikoshu grinned at her. "She's bluffing, Natquik. She couldn't bend her way out of a paper lantern." Picking up on his hint, Natquik nodded knowingly.

"I could believe that. After all, what's an airbender good at? Not getting hit? I don't think that's really fighting, anyway."

Miyo openly scoffed. "You're trying to antagonize me into fighting you? I'm a _pacifist_."

"Are pacifists against betting? We can make a friendly wager." Natquik held out his palm, which Miyo studied dubiously.

"What could you possibly have that I want enough to fight you for it?" She should've expected his suggestive leer.

"Alright, the sexual tension's a little stifling," Hikoshu said, tying his inner robe. "I think I'm going to find Rosma. You two enjoy your 'wagering.'" Miyo would've protested his implication, but he was already walking away, shrugging on his outer robe as he moved. A moment later, he was out of sight behind the treeless cliff face, and she was alone with Natquik.

Who still seemed intent on fighting her. "Just a good-natured bet."

"Alright." Sighing, she laid down her staff on the rock that had held Hikoshu's clothes. "I'll fight you. But here's the condition." She turned to face him, folding her arms under her breasts. "I win, you stop this whole charade and gracefully accept that I'm a nun. Because not only is your teasing pointless, but it's also _unbelievably_ annoying." He dared to look innocent. "And put your shirt back on."

"Too much man for you?" He gave her a half-grin, with his annoying little dimples. "You're telling me I'm too distracting without clothes?"

"No, you're sweaty, and I'm disgusted at the idea of touching you." Or maybe it was a little bit of what he said. It was a mixture of both. Fortunately, he obeyed anyway, fetching his robes.

"Trust me," he said as he pulled them on, speaking over his shoulder, "you won't touch me unless I want you to. As we both already know _you_ want to…"

"Just hurry."

He obeyed that command as well and turned fully dressed a moment later. And impatient to get on with it, she immediately set herself in an airbending posture, her palms open toward him. Natquik simply stared.

"I haven't made my half of the bet yet."

Miyo straightened with a deep frown in anticipation of his request. "Alright? What do you want?"

"Would a kiss sound too unoriginal?" Though he looked completely guileless, Miyo felt her frustration at him growing.

"Are you taking this fight seriously or not?"

Natquik held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't even need a bet to take this seriously. I'm just trying to humor you."

"Fine. I won't lose, anyway." Or she was pretty sure she wouldn't.

Natquik gave her that wry grin again, then assumed his waterbending stance, one hand held high near his face and the other pulled close to his waist as he stepped toward the river. Miyo breathed deep to ready herself and reassumed her own stance.

"First person off-bala—" she cut off with a gasp as he snapped his arm back and then forward, a thin stream of water erupting from the river to slash her cheek. Pain pierced her skin, and when she touched the cut, she found blood.

Frowning, Natquik gave a short whistle. "Hikoshu's not the only one who needs to work on his reflexes." Then he yanked his arms up, and a gush of water followed him from the river.

Miyo barely had time to react. She dodged the attack, but he easily pulled it back to hit her, and it was only a well-placed air block that dissipated the water. Putting herself into motion, she circled him, her body always facing his as she stepped sideways. He changed his position to follow her as he drew up more water, which he aimed for her legs. She swung herself onto one foot so to miss it. Twisting her body around in a full arc, Miyo leveled a blast of air at him. But he threw up an ice shield, and the wind reflected off of it uselessly.

Unhesitating, Natquik flicked his fingers out from his palms, and the shield became chunks of ice that flew at her. Leaping off the ground to avoid them, she threw two gusts of wind at him from either hand. And instead of attempting to dodge or escape, he instead dove forward, slipping under her while she was still mid-air to grab her foot.

She might've lost her balance at that, but she kicked off of him, using him to regain her momentum as she flipped and landed. He also somehow caught himself before falling, and as he swung his arms about, a thick arc of water answered him.

But he obviously wasn't sure yet of where she was, as the water went wide of her. She allowed the water to circle her to a point where it actually approached him, and threw out a gust of wind to destroy its inertia. The water crashed down in an erratic wave, heading for him, but he easily called it up in another wave to send back at her.

Miyo breathed out, using her hands to focus her breath into a gale that smashed through his wave. But he called the water back just in time to form another shield, thus protecting himself from that same wind. The shield was thin enough that it shattered, though not before she ran out of breath. Gasping, she began moving again.

He paused, and she had a chance to see his expression. While determined, he also looked like he was enjoying this. She could hardly understand why – nothing about this was very fun. But she had little time to consider it. Once more, he called up water, swinging it at her a little more accurately this time. She created a wind to block it, but he had figured out that trick, and he manipulated the attack so that half was lost in her block and the other half escaped to hit her hard in the stomach.

The first thought she had was how very _cold_ the water was. The second thought was that she was falling. Springing onto one hand, she cartwheeled once more to a stand and immediately flung an air blast at him. Natquik apparently thought he'd had her, for he wasn't prepared. The blast hit him, flinging him into the river.

It was her turn to think she'd won, but even before he hit the river, water shot up to catch him. Then, suddenly, that same water was shooting toward her, Natquik at its crest. Nearly gaping, she stared up at the looming wave that he rode. And the shock cost her any chance she had to escape.

All she could do was stoop and bend a sphere of wind around herself. The wave smashed into it, its force nearly destroying her defense. The air quaked, then the water quaked. And, much to her surprise, the water gave first.

The wave disintegrated, and it was only by sheer agility that Natquik found his feet before hitting the ground. But now he was separated from the river, and—more importantly—his back was to her as he tried to recover from the abrupt landing.

The perfect time to attack him, when he was defenseless and unaware.

Yet as she threw up her palms in order to level him with a blast, she hesitated. Suddenly, the same self-doubt that had plagued her since leaving the Air Temple welled up in her now, locking her arms. After all, this was not a counter-attack; this was not an effort to keep him from hitting her. This was simply an attack—something meant to exploit his weakness and destroy him.

Her moment of philosophical turmoil gave Natquik time to find his feet. It might not have been long, but it was long enough for him to spin around and yank his hands toward his chest. She had just realized that he could bend even at that distance when a hard, cold sluice of water smashed into her back and threw her to the ground.

Miyo lay there, defeated. The rocky shore dug into the side of her face and ribs, aching where she'd slammed into the stones. But it didn't sting as much as the idea of failure, as well as the knowledge that she shouldn't have failed.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and hauled her over, forcing her to look up at the bright sky. Natquik's face hovered over hers, etched with something akin to concern. Seeing that she was alright, he sighed and sat down next to her.

"You went down a lot easier than I thought you would."

She wanted to form an angry retort, but decided against it. It was her wounded pride speaking, and she really had nothing to be proud about. Gingerly, she felt her ribs to make sure they were fine in the fall. Though they hurt, she could tell that—much like her dignity—they were just bruised.

"Well," Natquik said, planting a hand by her shoulder as he leaned over her, his body once more blotting out the sky. His hair had come completely loose from its tie during the fight and now hung in wet tangles around his face, framing his eyes. "It was fun while it lasted. Too bad you let me win."

The words stunned her. And hurt her self-denied pride even more. "I didn't let you win."

"Sure, you did. You had a perfectly good chance to hit me, and you didn't." He gave her one of those charming half-grins, though she was hardly charmed. He didn't realize how much the accusation offended her.

"I _didn't_ let you win."

"Miyo, if you wanted me to kiss you, you didn't have to pretend you wanted to fight." He leaned in dangerously close, and she shoved him in the chest to push him away.

"_You_ wanted to fight, and I don't want you to kiss me. Natquik, just come off it. You're only doing this because you know you have no chance with me." He hesitated, as if seriously considering her words. Then he nodded and grabbed her wrist with his free hand.

"Probably."

Giving a disgusted sigh, she dropped her head back on the stones, and winced as their sharp edges dug into her scalp. It was a good thing Hikoshu hadn't stuck around for the fight. She doubted she could've ever lived it down.

"This is utterly humiliating." She closed her eyes, and her stomach balked at the idea that he might actually collect on his wager. But instead of a kiss, she felt him cup her cheek, his fingers warm and tingling on her chilled skin. Confused, she looked up at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a white glow where he healed her, and his expression was full of guilt. "Sorry for that. Water whip cuts are pretty nasty." Miyo grabbed his hand and pulled it away as she stared at him, baffled.

"Natquik…you won the fight."

"I told you, you let me win." Anger flared up in her at his insistence, but he seemed completely oblivious of how offensive he was being. "I can't really collect if I didn't really win, can I?"

"And I told you, I didn't let you win." She had to say it through gritted teeth as she threw his hand away.

"Well, it's true I didn't lose," he said, pulling back. "So I'm obviously not going to heed _my_ part in the bet." As if to make his point, he scanned the wet robes plastered to her body. "That fall must've hurt your ribs. You want me to heal them for you?" He held out a palm invitingly.

Tired of it, she threw a blast of air into his chest and knocked him over.

"What is it about you? Do you just like a good challenge?" she snapped, pushing herself to her feet. Water flew off her as she airbended it away, spraying the parched rocks, and Natquik threw up a hand to avoid the splatter.

"Well, every guy likes a good challenge." His half-grin looked far too smug. "Plus I don't get many these days. _Real_ challenges, that is." She growled in frustration, tugging on her hair to force it back in order.

"Why are all men in my life so arrogant? You're worse than Hikoshu!"

"Maybe you have good taste in men?" He stood up as well, rubbing his neck as he searched the ground for, she presumed, his missing hair tie. Spying the leather band before he did, Miyo bended it into her hand and shoved it against his chest as she fixed him with her staunchest glare.

"I didn't let you win, and I'm not interested in you. So, please, give it up." If it'd been Hikoshu, he might've yielded to her obvious frustration. But, undeterred, Natquik glanced down at the tie and took it with a knowing look.

"For someone who supposedly doesn't like me, you sure are denying it a lot."

Miyo sighed at his incorrigibility, then grabbed his neck, forcing him down so that she could kiss his forehead. "Grow up, Natquik. I didn't let you win." For good measure, she shoved him once more in the shoulder and left.

"Admit you like it!" he shouted after her, but she didn't look back. It'd only encourage him, unfortunately. Though he honestly didn't seem to need much to encourage him.

Her irritation faded the further she got away from Natquik, but her mind still dwelled on the fight. She couldn't figure out why it'd been so difficult to attack him. It wasn't as if the Air Temple nuns had taught her to block and nothing else. She _knew_ what needed to be done—the right moves to knock someone over, even incapacitate him if necessary. But the lessons she'd been taught were all in the safety of the Temple yards, and the masters had emphasized the defensive nature of airbending. So when the time came to use it for anything more than defense, she felt strangely incapable.

Even more so, it was just a friendly spar, and she chastised herself again. She'd fought other nuns countless times, never with any problem. Why did she hesitate this once? Had she become too involved in the fight? Had she thought that she might've hurt him?

No, that wasn't it. It was something about the way she was attacking him—the fact that she was stepping outside of her role of protection and into one that was far more aggressive. It had been the same reason she'd felt so horrible for attacking the firebender. It was the reason she'd succumbed to the waterbenders in the North, when she could do nothing but defend until she was finally too exhausted.

She just couldn't bring herself to fight.

But think about how much trouble she'd created _because _she wouldn't fight. Hikoshu and the library. Chian and the Water Tribe. Her silent castigation continued as she climbed over the boulders, looking for the one relatively flat clearing they'd found for Rosma. The lessons of the past month should have taught her one thing—pacifism was wrong. Choosing not to fight would always result in tragedy.

But she couldn't believe that. It went against everything she'd come to understand. Violence couldn't be an answer; it begat more violence, as the Air Nomad tenets stated. So why was her choice in non-violence causing so many problems? Did she not fully comprehend the ways of an Air Nomad? Part of her ached for the Air Temple, where everything made sense and nothing she believed was threatened. This journey was supposed to be about self-discovery, but she felt more and more like she was losing herself.

In her deep ruminations, Miyo had made her way to the clearing where Rosma was snacking. It stood just out of sight, blocked by a rocky outcrop, and here she paused to collect her thoughts. There wasn't any solution that she could conceive of; the choice was to stand and fight, or to run and abandon those who needed her most. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, her initial reaction would always be to run...

While Miyo puzzled through her brief, if resounding, crisis of faith, a sudden wind carried the sound of voices from behind the outcropping. Curious, she quickly forgot about her own issues and listened with growing concern to the invisible conversation instead.

"It won't be more than a few days out of your way." It was Yan-lin's voice, frustrated and pleading. Barely before she finished, Hikoshu spoke.

"We can't do that. I can't even afford the delay this trip to the Makapus is costing us. And your reasons sound pretty non-essential."

"It's essential _to me_." She really did sound desperate. And knowing Hikoshu, he would eventually break under the demands of some pretty brown eyes. "Please, it's the only way I'll get there."

"But three days?" He obviously wasn't buying it, and neither was Miyo. "Why can't I drop you off at a nearby port city? Like Taku."

"It's just…it's not very safe for me." The answer sounded like it was ripped out of her. "Not alone, at least." There was a pause. A very long pause, and Miyo knew Hikoshu was just as suspicious as she was now.

"Why isn't it safe?"

"I'm the daughter of a very powerful man, Hikoshu," Yan-lin said, assuming that lecturing tone she often assumed when she thought he didn't understand what she was talking about. "He has enemies in the port cities, and I just don't go there without a military escort, alright?"

"You have enemies?" Hikoshu gave a groan, and she could almost picture him rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't need for _you_ to have enemies. I have plenty of my own!"

"Look. Just get me to Gaipan. I know someone there who'll watch out for me. And that's only a day or two out of your way." When he didn't answer, she added, "It's the least you can do after how I've helped you."

"Fine," he finally gave, and Miyo shook her head. "If Miyo and Natquik are alright with it, I'm sure we can probably stop by Gaipan. Briefly."

There was a breathy 'thank you' and the sound of movement. Miyo peeked around the outcrop to see Rosma unhappily nosing a few denuded bushes, while Yan-lin's arms were wrapped around Hikoshu's neck, her feet nearly off the ground. Hikoshu, in turn, looked stunned at the effusive display, one hand on her back to keep his balance, the other on her shoulder to push her off.

Utterly hopeless. Distrustful, Miyo cleared her throat as she slipped into the clearing. The response was immediate; Yan-lin jumped back as if caught in the act of something despicable. Hikoshu looked equally guilty as he tried to stammer out an excuse.

"Miyo, we were just talking about y-"

She simply brushed him off.

"We need to head out soon, if you and Natquik are done training. There's nothing here for Rosma to eat." The two were obviously surprised, probably at the fact that she didn't comment on the scene she'd walked in on. But she wasn't so naïve that she didn't realize Hikoshu was easy to manipulate and Yan-lin was happy to do it. And rather than confront either of them on an issue they'd both deny anyway, she decided just to be on guard for anything that Hikoshu might miss.

She didn't hesitate to give Yan-lin a wary frown as she pushed past them, and the diplomat looked away with apparent chagrin. Beyond them, Rosma glanced up from his perusal of the bushes for food and rumbled in greeting, happy that someone actually remembered him. Smiling, Miyo gave his nose a pat and moved to secure his saddle. The poor thing was lonesome without Chian, but they both seemed to be making the best of a bad situation. After a week of travel, she'd finally come to understand Rosma on some level. And these days, it frequently felt like he was the only one who understood her.

"Miyo, you forgot your—" Natquik burst around the corner in his usual abrupt fashion, her staff in hand. But he pulled up at the sight of Hikoshu and Yan-lin. They must have still looked pretty guilty, for he studied them both dubiously and circled them to hand over the staff to Miyo.

"What happened to them?" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, though Miyo didn't explain. He'd probably think she was being too suspicious—and too hard on such a pretty girl.

Yet her instincts were telling her that Yan-lin was keeping something from them. Something very important. And Miyo found herself more than happy to take the time to drop her off in Gaipan. For as long as the diplomat remained with them, Miyo would have to keep an eye on Hikoshu.

And an even closer eye on Yan-lin.

**

* * *

A/N: **That fight scene up above is probably one of the best mentally-choreographed fights I've ever written. It's also by far the driest. I hate it with so much passion that I could just erase the whole thing and start over. But again, it's probably the best choreographed. So I'll probably leave it like that until I can figure out a way to inject that scene with some life. Any and all suggestions on how to do that would be greatly appreciated.


	27. The Fire Lord

**Chapter 26 - The Fire Lord**

* * *

"Nizan!"

The snarl made him spin around, only to come within inches of a bout of flame. As it broke, the flames revealed his sister, her young face as livid as the fire she had breathed out, her brows curved in hatred. Carefully, he pushed against her shoulders, making her take a step back as he too edged away.

"Tala. I can tell you have something on your mind."

She knocked his arms away, her aggressive behavior at odds with her royal finery – a dragon with ornamental claws. "You dare to demand I request an audience in order to speak with you? I am a crown Princess!"

Nizan suppressed a beleaguered sigh, the heat in the large reception hall suddenly growing oppressive. This was the exact reason he had required his sister file a formal petition before speaking to him, and he made a mental note to berate the personal guards who had let her in.

"It wasn't an attack against you, my sister. We simply thought to restore a little formality in the Court. You must agree it has grown rather lax in the previous reigns."

Her saffron eyes narrowed menacingly. "What do you mean by _we_?"

She probably knew exactly what he meant, and so he forewent explaining, turning his back on her as he headed for the torch-wreathed dais. It was an insult to turn away from a member of the royal family, but he was tired of trying to avoid a fight with her. Best to have it on his ground.

"You're alluding to the Great Sage, aren't you?" Her tone was bitter, accusatory. "Your cherished advisor. The man whispering in your ear!"

When he had seated himself on the golden throne, half again too large for someone of his slim stature, she was still rooted the same place, a blob of red silk on the copper-colored marble. But she burned as furiously as the heavy torches that lit the hall, and even her tiny, sixteen-year-old frame did not lessen the heat of her gaze.

"My advisors are of no concern to you. I do not answer to anyone except the whims of the Sun, and I certainly do not answer to a mere woman." His temper was growing as well, and he gripped the hard gold arms of his throne, letting the teeth of its carved dragons bite into his fingers.

Tala barked a laugh. "Only to the Sun? Funny. I don't remember the proclamation that Himizu had been raised to such a lofty status."

Nizan jumped up from the seat, holding back a growl as he slung a finger toward her. Around him, the flames of the torches burst into miniature bonfires, showering the room in red light.

"Watch your tongue, Tala! The Great Sage is dear to the Fire Lord, as dear as a father and should be respected as such."

"Our father is dead!" Her robes began to float around her, carried on invisible waves of heat as she marched toward him. "You claim innocence, but can Himizu claim as much? Or is it simply coincidence that our beloved father's death would result in the crowning of Himizu's favorite puppet?"

Unable to control himself, Nizan let out an enraged roar, slashing the air with fire that didn't quite reach as far as his sister. She stood her ground at the base of the dais, unfazed by his display.

"You go too far! You _will_ not speak in such a manner to your Fire Lord!"

"Or what? Will you harm me? The second hope to your bloodline?" She was derisive, and his blood boiled. "Or will you face me in _Agni Kai_ to restore your honor?"

He could not fight her in _Agni Kai_. It would be beneath him. And as the proper head of household, he could not punish her, either, for physical abuse was also below him. Nor could he have his royal guard punish someone of the royal Court, and so he was left in a tough position regarding his sister. How to keep her quiet and teach her proper respect for her leader?

There was a way.

"Careful, Tala," he said, still shaking with wrath. Tensely, he lowered himself into the throne and released his hands from their fists. "What you say may border on treason."

"Just like anyone who disagrees with your _advisors_' policies," she spat. "But we both know that it can hardly be called treason when you can hardly be called a ruler."

And, sweeping her gown, she turned her back on him.

He bounded off the dais, throwing up his arms to level a blast of fire at his younger sister's back. Before it even touched her, she had whirled around and blocked the attack, the gold tiara in her hair flashing with its light. But instead of counterattacking as he expected, she planted a kick into his stomach, and he flew backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs.

"Your Highness!" The creaks of the large hall doors echoed through the room. A moment later, another man was at his sister's side, his look of concern contrasted with her expression of triumph. "What have you done?"

"Nothing, Kazuo. Or nothing that anyone will hear of." She glanced to the stranger who, despite the pain searing through him, Nizan noted was dressed as a Fire Sage. Then, dismissively, she turned away from him again. "I must go. I have not petitioned for a _formal_ audience with my brother as I should have properly done."

As she glided out of the room, full of haughty grandeur, Kazuo knelt beside him to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?"

"Get off me!" he snapped, knocking the Sage's arm away as he sat up. "Go tell the guards that no one is to enter here. And tell Himizu I need to speak to him. Now!" Hesitantly, the Sage nodded and got to his feet. He then scurried out the door, as well, shutting it behind him.

Groaning, Nizan stood, one arm around his stomach. Tala was smart. And dangerous. Not since his mother's death had he held much love for her, and slowly, he was realizing why he'd never trusted her to begin with.

If Tala did not learn to respect him soon, he would have to find a harsher teacher.

**

* * *

A/N: **Yeah, I know. It was like the whole scene was copied word-for-word from the episode "The Avatar and the Fire Lord." Can you believe I actually wrote it seven or eight months before that episode premiered? It's like the Twilight Zone. I do have to admit, though, this scene would've been way cooler if it didn't look like a bad Roku/Sozin rip-off...


	28. Trust

**Chapter 27 - Trust**

* * *

Yan-lin flopped onto her back along her sleeping roll and bent her head backwards, her view such that the mountain range looked like it floated atop the purple sky. The men were going to be gone well into the evening, at this rate. And though she wasn't normally afraid of the dark, Yan-lin was always filled with a sense of anxious foreboding when she was in the Makapu Mountains. Especially when alone.

"Do you think it would be fine to light a fire?" Miyo asked, reminding her that she wasn't in fact _completely_ alone. "It'll help them find their way back, and…" She didn't finish, but Yan-lin could do it for her. It might make the general atmosphere a little less eerie. What Miyo didn't realize was that not much short of not actually being in the Makapu Mountains could make the Makapu Mountains more tolerable.

"Sure," Yan-lin finally agreed, turning over onto her stomach in order to study Miyo. "I don't think the spirits would mind us burning a little wood." Well, she assumed. This place was so rife with spirits, though, that she couldn't dismiss anything as impossible. The former King of Omashu had certainly picked a good place to hide the qu-dan. Or perhaps it had been nothing out of the ordinary before her arrival.

Whatever the case, the mountains were haunting on the skyline, their craggy summits dark in the shadow of the setting sun. The only trees that grew here were twisted and strange, unnatural. And there were no bird calls.

The distinct lack of bird calls always made her shiver. Like there was something right behind her back that she couldn't see, but knew had to be there. The funny thing was that there _were_ birds. During the day, she could see them in the trees or hopping through the bushes.

But they never made a sound.

"Who'll collect the firewood?" Miyo asked, and Yan-lin stared at her flatly.

"I don't know, but I'm not leaving this little clearing here." Or Rosma. Though the bison seemed thoroughly disturbed by the surroundings, requiring Miyo to calm him for nearly an hour, at least he scared off anything smaller than him. Which was almost everything.

"Fine," Miyo said, floating to a stand, her staff in her fist. "I'll just walk around the camp and collect the twigs I can find." She'd need luck with that. The clearing was wide, the weirdly-shaped trees lying along its huge periphery in dense thickets. They would probably provide plenty of wood, but they were far away from the center of the camp. And Yan-lin wasn't venturing out there.

"Could you find some flint or spark rocks?" Miyo asked instead, her tone sounding oddly irritated. Yan-lin blinked at her, then slowly pushed herself up.

"Where would they be?"

"I don't know. Don't you have any?"

"Don't you?"

It was then that they both realized that neither had packed essential fire-starting equipment, either based on the erroneous assumption that someone else had some or that Hikoshu would always be there. Yan-lin personally had never carried them; she always had an escort, so she always had a half-dozen soldiers who knew how to make more impressive fires than she.

The end result was that they were cold, anxious, and without a fire.

"Just search the men's bags," Miyo finally said after the awkward pause, gesturing to the two satchels thrown haphazardly on the ground at Rosma's feet. Without another word, she headed off into the darkness, the fading twilight swallowing her in a fathomless sea of ink.

Yan-lin waited until she disappeared before getting up. The large bison was on its stomach, its six legs pulled in close to its body as if to avoid exposing itself to the night air. And when Yan-lin approached him, his body tensed even more as he let out a low grumble, his head swiveling to watch her.

"I'm just taking the bags," she reassured him with twice the confidence that she actually felt. She certainly wasn't about to go petting him, even if Miyo constantly claimed he was more bluff than bite. Yan-lin suspected he'd probably make an exception for her, so she retrieved the bags and brought them several paces away from the bison before feeling safe enough to rummage through them.

Natquik and Hikoshu would probably chastise her for this. But as they were currently off trying to kill innocent turtle-ducks – and apparently not doing a very good job of it, given how long it was taking – she felt relatively comfortable with digging through their stuff.

Natquik's blue leather pack, she opened first. Hikoshu was a firebender and probably wouldn't carry something like flint. Natquik, on the other hand, was a trained hunter – which was why he was helping Hikoshu with the turtle-ducks. And also why he would likely have tools for making camp.

He apparently did. Half the items, she could barely identify a use for. Thick swaths of animal hide, wrapped coils of leather string, and several very sharp tools that looked like they could do anything from cutting to scraping. Upon finding the last, she abandoned her search of his bag. With the encroaching dark, it was foolish to dig blindly in a sack of knives.

So that left Hikoshu's bag. Luckily, his satchel seemed to hold fewer dangerous implements, but it also held a lot more randomly insensible things. Clothing, mostly, from the Water Tribe and probably the Fire Nation. As well as a sewing kit, three different kinds of rope, a whetstone, a water gourd, and – she yanked her hand out with a wince, encountering yet another sharp something-or-other.

Sucking on the heel of her palm, she hesitated at the sight of an object covered in silk, possibly red, folded carefully and cushioned by some of the clothing. With a frown, she pulled it out of the bag and set it in her lap. It was surprisingly heavy, half as wide as her hips. And when she unfolded it, the waning twilight barely allowed her to make out the items in its center.

It was a shallow bowl, carved out of wood, though it was hard and smooth like polished stone. Resting inside was an incense holder, as well as several types of incense from the smell. And tucked at the bottom were two notes.

She opened both, keeping a sharp eye out for either the men or Miyo. Though she discovered quickly that, without a fire or lantern, she couldn't read them. Sighing at her foiled curiosity, she looked around again for any approaching figures and quickly slipped both notes inside the sash under her coat. She could read them later at her convenience and then return them to his pack while everyone slept. Working fast, she folded the ceremonial bowl back in its red wrapping and stuffed it back in his bag.

Just in time, too. At that moment, a small fire emerged from the halo of ugly trees in the distance, its flame wavering in the gentle breeze. The loneliness of the night began to play tricks on her, and she thought briefly that it might be one of the ghost lights she'd often seen in the Omashu countryside. Those lights, it was said, were the souls of people who couldn't be reborn, bound to the earth by past betrayals or evil deeds.

She didn't doubt at all that such spirits would be found here.

Fortunately, though, before her imagination could run any more out of control, the flame grew larger and highlighted the figures of both Natquik and Hikoshu, the two men laughing as they approached. She hurriedly grabbed both bags and, stumbling, made her way to Rosma to abandon them at his feet. He grumbled again, but didn't move.

By the time the two men reached camp, Yan-lin was lying on her sleeping roll, feigning boredom. She looked up as they walked past her and blinked at the bright light in Hikoshu's palm. "Good hunting?"

Natquik held up a couple of sad, bedraggled-looking and dead turtle-ducks for her viewing pleasure. "And we didn't even need a lake. Aren't you impressed?"

"Small animal murders _always_ impress me. More importantly, you let Hikoshu catch one of those, didn't you?"

"Yes," Hikoshu responded, holding his fire high as he scanned the campsite, probably for Miyo. "Yes, I killed a defenseless creature, per your instructions."

"If I had caught them both, do you think we would've taken so long?" Natquik dropped the miserable things in the dirt and sat down beside them as he glanced around curiously. "Where's Miyo?"

"Gathering firewood. So did you have any trouble?"

Hikoshu flashed his free hand at her, though she couldn't really see anything from that distance. "I'll never look at turtle-ducks the same again. Nearly lost a finger."

"It was a bitter struggle," Natquik said candidly. Then, looking around once more, "Miyo better hurry with that firewood – these little guys are making me hungry."

"That's really sick, Natquik," Hikoshu said, though he was obviously distracted. "How long ago did she leave?"

"Right after sunset. She was just planning to walk around the clearing."

Hikoshu frowned at that, and he seemed to grow even more restless. "I don't like it. I'm going to go look for her."

"Don't bother," said Miyo's voice, directly over Natquik. The atmosphere must have had them all on edge; everyone jumped at her sudden appearance, and Yan-lin's heart hammered. The airbender, though, was unaffected by everyone's apparent terror, dropping an armful of branches in front of Natquik. "You don't think I can handle myself?"

"Did you just use a breeze-sneak to creep up on us?" Hikoshu asked, ignoring her question as he headed back to the small circle. Miyo shrugged.

"Glad to see you both made it back safely. I hope you had fun murdering cute, harmless little turtle-ducks."

"Harmless?" Hikoshu waved his hand at her, though again, it was hard to tell what he was indicating. "They're vicious!"

"They're also delicious," Natquik interrupted, pushing himself to his feet. "So if you wouldn't mind starting up the fire, I think I'm going to go clean these." He grabbed up the turtle-ducks by their necks, waving them for emphasis before he started off toward the bison.

Hikoshu signaled for Miyo to sit back, then lit the wood with one well-placed blast. Almost immediately, they were basking in the warmth of a superb campfire, fueled by branches dried out from a very long drought.

Yan-lin's thoughts were elsewhere, though. She knew that Natquik had gone to his bag for his tools, and she knew he'd notice that someone had been through the satchel. When she had undone the ties on his sack, they were complicated knots that she didn't even know how to redo. So preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation, she waited for him to return.

He did, eventually. It took a while, though, as he cleaned the turtle-ducks before coming back. And when Natquik entered the firelight, both bodies were plucked and spitted, their shells missing.

"Did you make sure to mark which one Hikoshu caught?" Yan-lin asked as he set up a make-shift spit using some branches from Miyo's woodpile. Hikoshu would have to deliver the shell of the one he caught to the qu-dan, so it was vitally important the two didn't get mixed up. Natquik, however, waved her off.

"It's fine, I can recognize the difference."

Yan-lin looked to Hikoshu, who in turn had his eyes trained on the fire. She had only known him a week, but she was starting to learn some of his mannerisms. Such as the way he'd purse his mouth before laughing if Natquik made a bad pun or a rude joke. Or how he became very withdrawn if his pride was insulted, but not if he was angry.

More importantly, he only looked this impassive when he was feeling guilty.

She studied him quietly, becoming more convinced with each moment he didn't look up that there was, in fact, something odd going on. Miyo must have sensed it, too, for she threw him sidelong glances of concern.

Natquik broke the silent tension. "So I saw that someone was searching through my things." He barely glanced up at Yan-lin as he worked.

She blinked at him, startled. Then, giving him an uneasy smile, she lifted her hand. Best to admit it now; they were going to know anyway, whether by her or by Miyo. "Sorry about that. I was just trying to find some spark rocks."

Hikoshu's gaze shot up, containing just the amount of suspicion she expected it would. Natquik, on the other hand, was almost jovial about it, his expression light-hearted.

"Guess that was a bad time for me to take my flint with me."

"Too bad you didn't take any of those knives." She flashed him her palm, though she didn't mention that the injury was in fact from Hikoshu's bag. "Why does anyone need that many sharp implements, anyway?" Natquik squinted at the relatively minor cut, then grinned.

"Well, you never know when you might come up short. Need me to heal that?"

"I hate to deprive you of a chance to show off, but no, I'm fine."

The comment made Miyo snort a laugh, which she tried to cover up in chagrin. Hikoshu, however, was still staring at Yan-lin. And it was starting to make her uncomfortable. Well, what was done was done. She would simply have to try to get the notes back to his bag before he noticed them missing. The key now was not to look like she'd done something wrong.

Which was going to be hard if he wouldn't stop _staring_ like that.

Eventually, his attention left her, particularly when Natquik offered him some of the cooked turtle-duck. He turned it down with an unhappy grimace, making some comment on never eating meat again, and joined an overly smug Miyo in one of her rice dishes. Yan-lin, to Natquik's disappointment, also refused a portion. She couldn't bring herself to eat anything out of those woods. On the other hand, Natquik had no such problem.

He also didn't have a problem with talking. As the night wore on, each person sunk into his or her own thoughts, brought down by the strangely quiet night. Even Rosma snuck closer to camp, his large frame rattling the ground as he lay just behind Miyo, his heavy breath stirring her robes. But Natquik didn't seem to notice any of it, frequently trying to engage the Air Nun in conversation, and – when that didn't work – deciding to regale Yan-lin with tales of his childhood before he left for apprenticeship. Yan-lin humored him as much as she could, but soon even she wore out and decided to try to sleep.

She didn't get much of it. Every time she would drift off, some indescribably vague nightmare would chase her awake, and she'd start up with a gasp, half-expecting those unseen monsters to have followed her into the real night. But the only things that changed were the positions of the stars and sometimes the positions of her sleeping companions. And the night remained silent.

After the fourth failed attempt at sleep, she got up from her bedding. The stars had moved even further in the sky, and the moon had already set. Which meant that she must've slept a little. Nearby, all she could hear were Hikoshu's loud snoring and the deep bass of Rosma's steady breaths. Without the moonlight, they were simply disembodied sounds.

She quickly located the lantern she'd placed by her roll before retiring and, using one of the extra sticks from the woodpile, fished out a coal from the dirt-doused fire. A moment later, her lantern was lit, casting odd shadows on everyone's figure. Covering the light as best she could, Yan-lin headed away from the camp.

There wasn't anywhere to hide that wasn't inside the bizarre trees, and she didn't intend to go that far out. So she quietly crept around Rosma's vacillating form and hid herself from sight. Listening carefully for Hikoshu's continued snoring, she pulled out the notes from her sash and opened them in the lamplight.

The first note, the least crumpled, had the broken wax of the Fire Seal on it. That immediately labeled it as an official document, and inside was an announcement of the death of Fire Lord Kanzagan. That wasn't really news anymore; most of the governments had heard the official proclamation in the last couple of weeks, and the funeral had been performed before they had left the Northern Air Temple. The only noteworthy thing mentioned was Kanzagan's last request for Hikoshu to attend his funeral.

Even Yan-lin knew Kanzagan would never have requested that.

The second note, though, gave her far more information, the paper wrinkled and worn as if it were written years ago. Inside was a personal message to Hikoshu – a request for him to stay away from the Fire Nation. Frowning, she read the message several times over. So that was why the Fire Nation had failed to bring him back home. Someone had made sure to keep him away. And this person – whoever this Yojing was – had known something of the Fire Sages' plans, had possibly even given his life to stop them, if the note was any indication.

Yan-lin had been aware that there were those in the Fire Nation uninterested in controlling the Avatar. She just hadn't realized that they were actively seeking to stop others from doing the same.

She was busy committing the note to memory when Rosma suddenly moaned, his massive, furry head shifting. Before she could hide the notes and extinguish the lamp, a second light appeared around the bison's hind quarters, the flame illuminating a half-awake Hikoshu in his large, blue parka.

He didn't get mad as she had anticipated. He didn't yell, stare in surprise, or really react at all. Instead, he rubbed at his face and walked toward her, the knot on his head leaning askew from how he had lain while asleep. This gave her the impression that he might not have seen the letters, and she tried to hide them from view.

Unbelievably, he stuck up his free hand, signaling for her not to bother. "I know you have them. Might as well just give them back now."

Yan-lin was embarrassed. Trying to hide her chagrin, she held out the notes to him and gave him a puzzled look instead. "How did you know I was out here?"

"Mystical Avatar powers," he answered cryptically as he took them, tucking them in his own belt under his coat. "Or maybe simple, common sense." He then put out his fire and airbended himself gently to the ground next to her. "Kind of hard not to see it coming, as I don't trust you and all."

That stung, but probably more because it was justified. "I have a natural curiosity." Hikoshu studied her with an incredulous frown, then adjusted his top knot, yawning loudly.

"Fortunately, I suppose, there's not much in my life to be curious about." Another look of disbelief. "I would've shown them to you if you'd asked."

"Why?" She was startled. A person so upfront with information was something she wasn't very used to. Particularly when it was someone who just openly declared he didn't trust her. Hikoshu shrugged and set her lantern between them, casting light on them both.

"No reason to be secretive. I'm not very good with secrets, anyway. Besides," he patted the place where he'd stowed away the notes, "I don't think anything in these will be the cause of my ultimate demise."

"So would you mind me asking who Yojing is?" It was forward, and she felt forward for asking it. But the fact he was open that night didn't guarantee he'd be open the next day. Still, he seemed a little surprised by the blunt question, and he considered her quietly before answering.

"Just my old firebending teacher." Hikoshu shrugged as he fiddled with the bamboo frame of the lantern, his face trained toward apathy. He might've been willing to tell her the story, but emotionally, he was walling up.

"Why was he warning you away from the Fire Nation? Your home?" Something she said struck a discordant note, and he looked up at her sharply, his brow furrowing. Then he jerked his head as if to get rid of a bad memory.

"I don't know. I figure it must be serious, though."

"What happened to him?" At her question, his expression grew even more somber.

"He died a few years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry." And she really was. He actually looked pretty glum about it, his mouth drawn in a thin line as he rested his elbows on bent knees, his eyes on the lantern. Then, abruptly, he shrugged again and looked up at her.

"Yeah, me too."

"How did he…?" Even before she finished, he was shaking his head.

"Don't know; it's kind of a mystery to me, too. But I know it wasn't good." The finality of his words sent a bizarre shiver through her shoulders that had little to do with the cold. His expression had hardened into something severe in the lamplight, and Yan-lin had a sudden desire to avoid the subject entirely.

"Are you planning to go back to the Fire Nation, then?"

He glanced at her, then leaned back on his hands, his gaze on the invisible horizon. "You say the qu-dan is connected to the Spirit World, kind of like me?"

"Yes," Yan-lin said, a little confused by his evasion of her question. "She convenes with the spirits. Or…something. I'm not very spiritual, so I don't really understand these things."

"If she can convene with spirits, do you think she could convene with lesser ones?" Hikoshu met her eyes, and she sensed that he'd been wanting to ask this question for a while.

"You mean like the spirits of mortals?"

"That is, if they exist in the Spirit World."

Yan-lin wrapped her arms around her legs and studied the brown fabric tugged over her knees. She could remember what the Air Nomads thought of the after-life, as well as the Water Tribes. But what did the Fire Nation believe? There had to be a reason for his sudden curiosity.

"I don't know, Hikoshu. Can you do something like that? I mean, as the Avatar?"

He seemed disappointed by the response, his shoulders slumping forward. "It's not like anyone gave me instructions on how to use my mystical Avatar powers. Or on anything else, for that matter." He grinned wryly. "It would've made things a lot simpler, though."

The joke made her smile, as she considered how true his words were. Things would've been much simpler if he'd just known what he was doing right from the beginning. Maybe things would've never gone so wrong in his former life.

"That message," she said after a moment, her words carefully chosen as she watched for his reaction, "there was question in it. About 'fate' and inevitability.'"

But the solemnity from earlier was gone, and he nodded thoughtfully as he scratched his ear. "Yeah, the Fate _koan_. Master Yojing really liked that riddle."

"What's the answer to it?"

Hikoshu shrugged again, his eyes, reddened from sleep, catching hers. "Your guess is as good as mine. Back before he took me on as his student – when I was eleven or so – Master Yojing would wake me up every morning with that question. What is Fate, and what is Inevitability?"

Then his gaze once more settled on the darkness as he became lost in a fog of memory. "And before I'd go to bed at night, I'd give him an answer. I initially took it seriously, but then I realized there really wasn't a good response." His searching eyes must've found something funny, as he grinned lightly. "So I just made up answers. Fate's a chicken-hog, Inevitability's the butcher. Things like that. We did that off and on for a good year."

The grin faded, and he sighed with a soft shake of his head as the somber mood returned. "Finally, I grew tired of it. So one evening, I told him, 'It's inevitable that you're going to ask me the same ridiculous question which I'll answer incorrectly. But it's fate that you're going to take me as a student anyway.' I was pretty precocious. And even though it wasn't the right answer, he adopted me a week later."

Yan-lin frowned at her knees, her mind skimming through the words of the note that she'd committed to memory. "Maybe, though, that wasn't a _wrong_ answer." She then noticed Hikoshu's curious gaze, and turned self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Think about it. The note said your role as Avatar was inevitable, but his death was Fate. In that case, and in the case of your answer, both actions which were inevitable were passive. And both actions which were fated, I assume, were actively chosen."

He was confused, his mouth twisted into an uncertain frown, and so she tried to clarify, gesturing with her palms as she spoke. "You don't choose to be the Avatar. Everything you do, you do because you _have_ to. You aren't given a choice, and you don't give yourself a choice. But your master…maybe your master didn't see his death as inevitable. Maybe he actively chose to die. And the act of choosing was what made his death his fate."

That had obviously never occurred to him, and though his eyes hardened with repressed emotion, there was a light there; some sort of recognition, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about and more.

Musing deeper, Yan-lin clasped her shin with one hand, drawing lines in the dirt with the other. "The fact is, inevitability doesn't describe fate. We say something is inevitable so we never have to do anything about it. Failure is inevitable, so we don't try. The wrong answer is inevitable, so you don't take the question seriously. But fate…it's the ultimate outcome. It happens _because _of our actions, not in spite of them." Then, as an afterthought, "In other words, if Fate is what you can't avoid, Inevitability is a lie you tell yourself in hopes of avoiding it."

Hikoshu studied her quietly, and again, she turned self-conscious. But when he spoke, there was no skepticism in his voice. "That sounds like the kind of answer Master Yojing would've wanted." It was close enough to a commendation that she grinned.

"I have a head for riddles."

"Then what about this?" He waved a hand to take in the night, as well as their little ring of lamplight. "Would it be Fate that I met you, and that you could give me the answer to my master's final question?"

"I don't know." Her grin faded into a small smile. "Maybe it is." And for the first time, they regarded each other in mutual understanding – a moment of warmth and friendship that she'd hardly shared with anyone else.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she broke the gaze, pushing her braid over her shoulder. "So…tell me what it feels like to be the all-powerful Avatar." That must've taken Hikoshu by surprise, his eyes widening as if he'd never considered it before.

"Right now, a little cold."

"Seriously, Hikoshu." That made him laugh, which was surprisingly charming. Perhaps he rarely laughed, or perhaps he just rarely laughed with _her_. Either way, it gave her a good feeling.

"I imagine it feels like being a person, but with a lot more people bowing. And speeches." He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "For some reason, being the Avatar means you must automatically be good at speeches."

Yan-lin cracked another grin. "Well, you certainly disprove that myth." Hikoshu looked properly offended, though without the underlying wounded pride he so often had when she questioned his abilities. As if he might consider her comments as friendly teasing for once.

"It also means that you automatically have everyone's respect." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Which, for some reason, is something you refuse to give me any of."

"I like men to earn my respect."

"Do you? Well, I'd try for it a little harder, but first I have to trust you won't rummage through my personal belongings while my back's turned." Immediately, the good feeling was gone, her conscience taking its place. She shouldn't have to feel so guilty about that. After all, he'd basically said he would've told her had she asked.

Yet even she knew that was a lousy excuse.

"I promise I won't do it again?"

Hikoshu eyed her doubtfully, then held out his hand, palm up. "You'll take the Oath of Fire on it?"

Growing wary, she glanced between his hand and his eyes. "What's an oath of fire?"

"What it sounds like." And his palm suddenly burst into flame. Yan-lin's trepidation turned into all-out fear. "You just have to take my hand."

"It looks very painful."

"Well, I have to know you're serious about your word."

She really _wasn't_ that serious. But one look to Hikoshu convinced her that he wouldn't trust in her otherwise. He waited on her expectantly, innocently. And perhaps, she argued with herself, Natquik could heal it if the damage was severe. Her mind still balked, thinking that was a very bad argument.

But what could she do? Knowing with each moment that passed, she'd talk herself out of it more, Yan-lin forced the doubts from her mind. And gathering her courage about her, she reached out to take his hand.

He let the flames go out before she seized it, and at first, his skin felt on fire. But it wasn't hot – his grip was actually just warm, as she adjusted to the idea that he wasn't about to burn her. And her fingers, she realized, were freezing. In fact, her entire body felt awash in ice water, the anxiety of the past few moments causing her heart to gallop. Hikoshu, on the other hand, seemed to find the whole situation amusing as he let her go.

"I'm just teasing."

"There's no oath?" she asked in a daze, holding the offended hand as if it really had been burned. Hikoshu pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his legs.

"No, there's an oath. That just wasn't it."

"Then what was that about?" She actually felt her temper rise – her naturally mild temper, which was rarely ever provoked. Except by this one infuriating man. "You had me convinced I was going to catch my hand on fire."

"Well, I had to know if you were serious."

Scowling, she grabbed the lantern and got to her feet. Then she turned on him, getting close enough that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. It was even more infuriating that he had to be so tall. Her father was that tall.

"I hope you trust me now."

"Good night, Yan-lin." And he walked away, leaving her alone with her anger and an overwhelming confusion over whether or not this night could be considered progress.


	29. The Qudan

**Chapter 28 - The Qu-dan**

* * *

The sky was bright blue, so clear that the shapes of passing birds seemed to disappear in its depths, and the afternoon sun cast a brilliant gold haze on the mountainside. Even the crisp wind held the promise of a pleasant autumn evening, the sensation reminding Hikoshu longingly of the Air Temple.

But there was something wrong about the scene, as if it'd been ripped from his memories and haphazardly stuck on an alien environment, masking the world for what it really was. And he thought if he looked a little too closely at the dead trees or the rocky slopes, he might see some of the hidden background peek through.

So he made sure never to look at anything too long, because he knew that whatever the peaceful autumn afternoon was hiding, he didn't really want to see.

"It's up there?" Miyo asked behind him, and his eyes unconsciously climbed the mountainside to a cave a dozen yards or so above them, the gaping hole barely large enough to fit a bison. "There's no landing edge. It might be hard for Rosma to fly into it."

"We don't need Rosma." At the sound of her voice, Hikoshu turned toward Yan-lin, who was hitching up her pack over her shoulder, her long braid wrapped up into a bun. "We can just climb it."

Rosma gave one short grunt, which Hikoshu interpreted to be happy agreement, and swung his head around to sniff out some living vegetation, futile though it was. Nothing but an occasional leafless bush grew out of the nearby rock.

Allowing the bison to forage, Miyo turned a frown on the younger woman. "Climb it? Are you insane? That slope is all loose rock. You'll cause a landslide before you're halfway up."

"Hikoshu, think fast!"

He didn't really have time to think fast. A turtle-duck shell shot into the sky, well over his head. With a gasp, he stumbled backwards, throwing up a wind to keep it in the air until he was underneath it. And after he caught the shell, nearly dropping it in the process, he turned a glare on Natquik. The waterbender grinned from the back of Rosma, then hopped down, landing ungracefully next to Yan-lin.

"What were you planning to do if you broke that?" she asked him casually, not looking nearly as mad as she would've had Hikoshu failed to catch it. Natquik dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand, collecting himself from the ground.

"You have so little faith in Hikoshu."

Hikoshu ignored him, tucking the shell under his arm as his gaze returned to the mouth of the cave. There was no way he was going to climb that. True, it wasn't very far off the ground. But it looked unstable enough that it might as well be miles.

"And just how were you planning to climb that?" Miyo echoed his thoughts. She approached Hikoshu's side, using her staff to keep her footing on the edge of the rocky slope.

"We'll just have to do it very slowly."

"You're crazy," Miyo said with a shake of her head, and he agreed, letting Yan-lin see his displeasure. "We can just fly up there on Rosma and dismount from his side. A lot easier than climbing."

Yan-lin blinked at her. "What do you mean 'we?'" Natquik had looked up, too, as he stuffed the second turtle-duck shell into his own bag. "No, you and Natquik should stay here."

"I'm not staying down here," Miyo scoffed in disbelief, reflexively taking Hikoshu's elbow as if that would protect him. "Hikoshu's not going into that cave without me."

"Well, we can't all go before the qu-dan." Yan-lin approached her, assuming that haughty, authoritarian air of hers. "Oracle-reading is a private matter. She'll never allow three unnecessary people, maybe not even one."

And something in her words—or tone—made Miyo bridle with sudden anger, her grip tightening on her staff until her knuckles blanched. "Then why don't _you_ stay down here with Natquik and _I'll_ go with him?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows the way through the cave system. You'd just get lost in the mountain."

"I'd certainly like to give it a try."

They had come very close, Yan-lin staring up at Miyo with a stubborn glare that the Air Nun turned with equal fervor. And while they didn't look like they were about to come to blows, Hikoshu knew it wasn't going to end well.

Natquik didn't seem to share the same concern, sidling next to Hikoshu as he watched the two with vague curiosity. "My money's on the airbender. But, then again, that whole pacifism thing…"

"They're not going to fight, and you don't have any money." He didn't think they'd fight, at least. But the glowers the two were sharing certainly seemed pretty violent. Realizing this wouldn't resolve itself, he shoved his shell into Natquik's arms and moved toward the women to separate them by their shoulders.

"Alright, cut it out! Listen, Miyo," and he drew her away, though she continued to glare past him at Yan-lin. "I appreciate you trying to watch out for me, but really. You don't need to." She finally looked at him, her scowl renewing at the implication in his words.

"You're agreeing with her?"

Hikoshu pulled back defensively. "I'm not agreeing with anyone! I'm just saying that I've come a long way for this to fall through. And if she's the only one who knows how to get to this oracle, well…" Miyo's eyes widened.

"You _are_ agreeing with her! Hikoshu, you know you can't trust her." She didn't even bother to lower her voice. "And you want to go into a cave where you could easily get lost? Or _killed_? And we wouldn't know? That's ludicrous!"

"But it's the only way," he said lowly as he bent his head close to hers, trying to keep the conversation private. "I can't risk messing this up."

She stared at him, shocked, but quickly, her brows folded over her eyes and her arrow creased in fury. Shoving her staff into his chest, she stormed away.

"Fine. Fly up there by yourself."

"Miyo!" he called after her, clutching the glider. She didn't stop moving as she pushed past Yan-lin. Before he could follow, though, Natquik stepped forward and handed the shell back.

"Don't worry, I got her." Trailing, he hastened to catch up, and a moment later, they'd both disappeared beyond Rosma's tail.

Hikoshu sighed, studying the staff she'd thrusted into one hand and the shell Natquik had pushed into the other. He just didn't understand Miyo's violent reactions sometimes, especially in the last three weeks. It was as if she was constantly trying to protect him, pitting herself against whoever was trying to help. As if she didn't trust that he was capable of handling his own life.

All he knew was that it put him in a hard situation, being forced to make a 'choice' between her and everyone else.

"If we're going to go," Yan-lin said, and he looked up to find she was already at his side, her expression placid once more, "we probably should before Miyo comes back." Hikoshu nodded, turning back toward the cliff.

"Just lead the way."

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Miyo?" Where had the woman gotten to? Natquik thought she was just in front of him, but when he circled Rosma and climbed the remnant hill of an old rockslide, she was nowhere to be seen. Just more rocks and dying shrubs. Still, he couldn't leave her out there, so he pushed himself over the pile of stones and began searching.

Eventually, he heard her. The gentle shuffling of some animal hidden behind a stand of thick bushes, which sounded large enough to be human. Choosing to forego stealth, he simply walked up to the shrubs and announced himself with a shake of the dead limbs.

Miyo was sitting on the other side, her robes blending rather well into the yellow stones under her. With her hands in her lap and knees bent, she gazed at the cloudless sky. Natquik looked up, too, and—noting that there was nothing particularly interesting above them—sat down beside her.

"Come to cheer me up?" she asked, finally glancing at him. He could already see there wasn't much use in that. She seemed a little too upset for any kind of cheering that he could do. So he just shrugged and looked back at the sky.

"I just thought I'd take advantage of some time alone with you." The response made her sigh, her shoulders sagging as she folded her arms along her knees and hid her face.

"Natquik, I'm not in the mood."

"I can tell."

She didn't answer, her head still buried in her arms, and Natquik was content to let her stay that way. Silence, he'd learned, was very effective in letting people get over things. Or at least in getting them to talk.

"Why does he do that?" she finally said, lifting her gaze to pin him with it.

"Do what?" he prompted, and she gestured angrily at the air as if showing him.

"Make it so hard to be his friend. All these things are happening to him, and I know it must be bothering him, but he never says anything! He doesn't talk to me anymore."

"Hikoshu talks to you all the time," he said, confused. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Miyo gave him a disgusted look.

"He tries to protect me. Always trying to protect me, because he doesn't think I can take care of myself." Natquik then realized the expression of disgust wasn't for him or Hikoshu, but for her. "Half the time, I feel that he thinks I'm a burden to him. I can't fight, I can't help, so all I am is just an extra person to worry about."

"You think you have to justify why you're here?" Natquik had already gathered Miyo was insecure, particularly about Hikoshu. There wasn't any other good reason for her over-protectiveness. Now, though, he was realizing that it was only a small part of a bigger issue.

Her eyes were focused on her lap, her fingers running over the tattoo on the back of her hand. Miserably, she shook her head. "He's my best friend. And…he just doesn't need me."

"Sure, he does. But, you know, Miyo, he has a lot of other things to worry about. With the whole Avatar thing." He ducked his head, trying to capture her attention, but her gaze remained on her hands. "Hikoshu's learning to live his own life. You might try to learn to live yours."

Finally, she twisted to look at him, her expression stunned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you spend too much time worrying about Hikoshu, and not enough living without him." He gestured behind him, back the way they'd come. "You're trying to find your role in _his_ life. But you don't need to do that, do you? You've got your own role to play in the world."

She stared in amazement, and he wondered if she'd heard that before. Maybe this wasn't the first time someone had told her that her life wasn't Hikoshu's.

"Why does everyone talk about different paths?" she muttered darkly, her eyes wandering absently over the shrubs. "Different destinies?" Natquik shrugged, though she didn't see the motion.

"I don't know anything about that, and honestly, I don't want to. What happens in five or ten years isn't nearly as important as what happens right now. Right here. Where you're sitting."

That caught her attention, and she glanced up, considering him with a pensive look. It was a quiet moment, as if she was finding deeper meaning in what he'd said. But just as quickly, it was over, and Miyo gave a snort. "Profound, but I doubt it's going to change my life."

"That's too bad." He rubbed at his neck, wondering what that epiphany had been and where it had gone. But, he supposed, at least she seemed less unhappy. "You know, maybe if you weren't so completely focused on Hikoshu, you could look past him and find something better."

"Someone like you?" she said with sudden humor and a wry grin.

"I think I said 'something,' not 'someone.'" He returned the grin anyway, offering her a hand as he stood. "But I would certainly qualify as 'something better.' And, I don't know, being the object of your attention might be kind of fun for a change."

She took his hand, her mood obviously improved. "I think I'm too busy being the object of yours."

"You know you love it." That made her blush a charming red color, her mouth twisted between a disapproving frown and a smile. Really, that expression made all the teasing worth it. Her reaction delighted him to no end, even when they both knew the taunts were in innocent fun.

He started to walk back toward Rosma, but a tug on his hand brought him to a halt. Arching his brows curiously, he turned to look at Miyo, only to find her watching him with a sad frown. Meaning that he would have to try to cheer her up again, he realized with some disappointment.

But she surprised him. "Let's not go back just yet."

"What? Did you lose something?"

"No. Just…feel like living my own life." She glanced past his shoulder anxiously, but took a deep breath and gave him a smile. Natquik grinned, belatedly releasing her hand.

"I knew you couldn't resist being alone with me."

"How about we just talk?"

Natquik shrugged and gestured in the opposite direction of the bison.

"Lead the way."

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

To say that the climb was difficult was understating the case. Even using Miyo's staff, Hikoshu stumbled twice, the rocks slipping out from under him like water. And in those moments, when he thought he would be at the bottom of the slope with a foot of mountain piled on top, he crouched low and clung to whatever looked large enough to hold his weight.

After the second incident, Yan-lin paused at her spot just below the cave entrance and called back, "You know, you could have flown up with the glider."

Hikoshu merely flashed his eyes up at her, unable to keep his gaze on anything but his feet for very long. Besides, he didn't doubt she'd dislodge a rock in her maneuvering and hit him in the face.

"We both could have flown up if you hadn't scared off the only woman who knows how to." He leaned against the staff, loose gravel scattering under his free hand, and concentrated exclusively on the slope immediately above him.

"It takes two hands to clap, Hikoshu." He could hear her clamber over the edge, pebbles scattering as she crawled into the cave. A moment later, they poured down on him.

"You can't possibly be blaming this on me." Speaking normally, he knew she wouldn't hear him. But his thoughts were more on not falling than on conversation. Something she didn't seem to have had a problem with. Then, with a sudden realization that made him glance up: "I see your fear of heights is miraculously cured."

She leaned over the lip, and his head spun at the sight of her. "It's thirty feet of sloped mountain. Not exactly miles of air." Yeah, well, he trusted the mountain a lot less than he trusted the bison. But fighting required too much effort, and he let the subject go until a more secure time.

When he'd finally managed to climb the last ten feet or so, a slender hand appeared in front of him. With more than a little trepidation, he seized it and hauled himself up to the ledge, nearly all of his weight on the glider. Yan-lin's face suddenly sprung into view, inches from his, her cheeks red both from cold and exertion.

"Thanks," he mumbled, dropping her hand so that he could struggle the rest of the way into the cavern. Then, fortunately, his thoughts left the cliff behind him as he gazed into the looming mouth of the cave.

He'd never been in a cave before, so he couldn't say this wasn't a normal one. But it felt very _ab_normal. It was large, empty, spanning into the mountain so far that Hikoshu could see nothing but black. When the wind blew, the cave emitted a low, whispery moan, and when it stopped, a strange odor like stagnant water crept out. And the fact that he knew what was in there was not so terrifying as the idea that he really didn't.

"It's going to get dark," Yan-lin said behind him, her understatement making the hair stand on his neck. "We're going to need some light."

"Built-in lantern." He glanced back at her, a flame starting from his free palm. "You're going in first." It wasn't a question.

She stared at him with a small frown, then took a breath, hitching her pack higher on her shoulder, and marched headlong into the depths. Nervously, Hikoshu followed behind her.

They had the light of the mouth at their backs for a short time, which gave Hikoshu the opportunity to examine the inside anatomy of the cave. Though there wasn't much to note; the floor was surprisingly smooth and flat, as if it'd been carved, while the walls were as uneven and craggy as one would expect in a mountain tunnel. The rock was a dull yellow in the dim light of the outside world, occasionally mottled with dark stripes that could have been stains left over from old water trails. Though, now, the walls seemed dry.

Before they had traveled far enough for the light to die completely, the cave suddenly diverged, their straight path ending in a broken wall while the tunnel split into two branches to their left and right, both black and silent. He considered them with some anxiety, imagining what the darkness could hold and dreading the fact he would have the only light.

Without consulting him, Yan-lin immediately stepped into the right wing, and Hikoshu quickly moved after her with the fire.

In this new, taller tunnel, there was nothing to see for some time. The halo of light never touched the ceiling, and barely brushed the walls on either side, creating the illusion of a much larger space. In fact, if it weren't for the distinct lack of air currents and the echoes of their steps, Hikoshu would have thought they were outside. The sensation was disconcerting, and he felt himself grow more and more preoccupied with the parts of the cave just outside of his vision. At any given moment, he thought he could _hear _things. But it was hard to tell what noises were his soft leather shoes and what were his own imaginings. And what, perhaps, were neither.

Within the orange glow, the back of Yan-lin's head bobbed, the only color in an otherwise monotonous trek. She didn't seem to share his mounting concern, never glancing back at him as she swiftly chose a branch of each new fork. He tried to keep up with her choices, but there didn't seem to be a scheme to it. She would go right three times, left once. And occasionally, she would turn abruptly in the middle of the tunnel, stepping into a passageway that Hikoshu hadn't even seen appear in the wall. And she seemed to do it without any signs or tracks; the floor was entirely smooth, the rest of the cave too dark for clues.

The only real variations were the sizes of the intersecting tunnels, some of them wide, some of them so small that he had to duck to walk through them. Once, they had to climb down into a tunnel that was actually four feet lower than the passage they left. In that instance, he nearly lost his flame as he tried to juggle both it and Miyo's staff, which he clung to for security. The idea of losing their only light, though, was even more nerve-wracking, and he struggled into the second tunnel.

The deeper they went, the colder it turned, and Hikoshu found another reason to be grateful for his fire. With little to look at, he used his flame to scan the surrounding walls, trying to dispel the phantoms that dwelled just outside of the fire. And though Yan-lin studiously kept to the center of the tunnel, he found himself slipping closer to the periphery, as if having a wall next to him meant one less side to protect.

"I'd stay away from the walls." Yan-lin murmured, though her voice reverberated against the high roof, jarring him as well as the darkness. Hikoshu swung the flame back toward her, but she hadn't looked at him. She kept her central route, the hem of her robes licking at invisible feet, almost as if she were floating.

"And why is that?"

Even as he turned to the wall curiously, a figure jumped into sharp relief from a recess, the flame making it jerk under its own shadows. Biting back a yelp, Hikoshu threw forward his right hand protectively, and realized that he still held Miyo's staff. Luckily, though, before he could figure out the logistics, Yan-lin had grabbed his left wrist to hold his fire steady.

"That's why." And he could see it now. The figure didn't move anymore – couldn't move. Sitting in its tiny alcove in the wall, piled with layers of fine yellow silk embroidered in red and green thread, was something that had possibly been human once. But underneath the finery, it looked brown and shriveled. When he pulled his arm away from Yan-lin and moved the fire closer, white teeth glinted under the papery brown skin, eye sockets covered in their own thin crusty sheet. The whole head was mummified, ears missing, neck nothing more than a spine stuck into its shining robes, hair running in short tufts from under a jeweled hat.

"What is it?" Hikoshu asked with unabashed disgust, his mouth twisting as he leaned closer in morbid curiosity.

"It's a qu-dan. And you probably need to leave her alone."

Hikoshu could now see, folded in its lap, an object it held in dark, stick-like hands – a jade box, decorated with opals along its sides. While the stones glimmered in his fire, the jade seemed to eat the light. Seemed to swallow him, too. His mind grew foggier as he stared at the little jade box, something whispering along the edges of his thoughts as if commenting on his actions.

"Hikoshu!" Yan-lin hissed and yanked him back with an arm across his chest. "Leave her alone!" Broken from the momentary lapse in attention, Hikoshu squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his cheek on his shoulder, trying to recollect his bearings. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he said, finally turning a troubled frown on her. She stood behind him, staring up at him with a mixture of annoyance and concern. But at his apparent reassurance, she threw up a hand in frustration and began walking again. With one last, confused glance at the well-robed mummy, Hikoshu followed.

"It's a former qu-dan," Yan-lin said after a moment of silence, as Hikoshu carefully scanned each wall for anything else equally surprising. "The qu-dans lived on their own mountain before they lived here. Like you, they're reincarnated. But whenever they died, the locals would mummify them and keep them on the peak. Keep them tied to the mountain."

"So when you moved the qu-dan to this mountain," Hikoshu continued, relenting in his search, "you just gathered up all the old qu-dans from their own sacred burial places and stuffed them in here with her?"

"She draws her strength from past guides, though the Earth Kingdom doesn't quite know how. We didn't want her power to be diluted during the sequestration."

"So you could use her for your own purposes."

Yan-lin cast a glance over her shoulder, but said simply, "There'll be more bodies."

On cue, new recesses appeared in the firelight, decorative robes of every color imaginable gradually sliding into view on both sides of them. For the most part, he couldn't make out the mummies under the silk, and he was glad for it. As they walked through that gauntlet of the dead, he involuntarily shuddered and drew away from their empty gazes.

"What are they holding?" he asked, noticing that each body clasped a jeweled object like the jade box in its lap, the carved surfaces reflecting in the fire. Yan-lin shrugged.

"Some ritual item, I think. I've never seen it used."

Hikoshu allowed silence to set in as she took another left. In the Fire Nation, as required by custom, all the dead were burned. And in the Air Temples, they practiced something called a sky burial. The result was that ancestors were present in spirit rather than body, their physical links to the world destroyed. Here, though, he was surrounded by mortal remains, the spirits chained to this place by bodies that had been dried to flimsy husks of their past selves. And Hikoshu suspected that, despite their regal dress, the spirits felt less than honored by such a death.

It must have been a lonely existence, here in this cave of ancient corpses and endless turns. He began to wonder if the qu-dan really did have mystic abilities, or if she was simply crazy from isolation. Only someone with great strength of mind would be able to keep her sanity long in this place.

Hikoshu thought to ask Yan-lin how sane such a woman could be when suddenly she stopped, reaching back to flatten her hand against the coat across his chest.

"Put out your fire. We're here."

Hikoshu obediently extinguished the flame, and immediately, they were plunged into darkness. In seconds, he was regretting his decision; everything he'd imagined flitting outside the sphere of his light now surrounded him, the black pressing on him thicker than the mummies' robes. Haltingly, Yan-lin's thin fingers clasped his free hand, and she pulled him forward.

As they moved into a new chamber, a breeze of cold air flushed over them, the darkness peeling away under the green glow of a thousand crystals. His eyes adjusting to the light level, Hikoshu could now see how vast the round room really was. The crystals lined a recessed shelf all along the length of the circular wall, sitting just below a rugged ceiling covered in massive gray-green stalactites.

The chamber underneath was harder to make out, covered in the shadow of the higher shelf. But he could discern alcoves carved into the wall similar to those in the tunnel, starting to his left and circling all the way around. A few of them had occupants, only their lavish robes visible, though most of them were dark. Those straight ahead were blocked from view by a large dais that towered in the center of room, its rocky formation similar to the stalactites.

The dais held a stone seat – what could be described as a throne – and in it was another silk-swathed mummy. It sat haphazardly, its withered head, draped in a long, yellow silk hat, leaning against the stony edge of its chair, and its obscured hands folded in its lap. Hikoshu could hardly determine anything else in the faint light, and he looked around cautiously for any other sign of life in the room.

And noticed that Yan-lin had moved further into the chamber, quickly prostrating herself before the dais in supplication. Uncertain of what she was doing, Hikoshu came to a stop a few paces behind her.

"Qu-dan, you who see the will of the immortal, you who trace the roads of the mortal." She'd raised her head enough to speak, and her voice resounded through the room, shaking loose dust from the stalactites. Hikoshu watched those just as closely as he watched her. "You who know the past, observe the present, understand the future. You who…"

His attention was interrupted as pain seared through his left temple, piercing his eye. Gasping in shock, he clutched his head and spun around. But there was no one to his left – only empty chamber and mummies. The pain continued to throb under his fingers, pounding with his heart, creeping to the back of his eyes. As if in response, a foreign presence at the bottom of his mind appeared, slipping over his thoughts like a blanket.

The Avatar State. Terror filled him at the realization, and mentally, he scrambled for some control.

But this wasn't the same. He was still there, still aware of everything happening in his head. Except now something else was inside him; an alien mind, scrutinizing his intentions. Unable to force it out – not even certain he wasn't just paranoid – he fought back the pain and straightened to look at Yan-lin.

"…give us your insights and wisdom, we beseech you." She'd spread a silk brocade along the floor, resting atop it a metal bowl, a wood stick, a heel of bread, and a handful of dried fruit. A ritual offering, she'd told him before they arrived. Each item held religious significance, though Hikoshu couldn't bother to remember exactly what while in such pain. Meticulously, she filled the bowl with water from her water skin, and he just wanted to scream at her to get on with it. At this rate, they would be as dead as the mummies before she finished.

"We honor you, spirit. We honor you, qu-dan." She rolled the edge of the wood stick along the rim of the bowl, and soon it began to hum, producing a clear, hollow note that seemed to make the dull throbbing in his head burst with renewed energy. "Show us what you are shown." And in the empty chamber, he did not expect anyone to answer her.

But someone did.

"I have seen many, though not so many now as then." The voice was feminine, distinctly full and youthful, and echoing from every part of the room. More dust shook off the stalactites and showered them in small pebbles. "Yet I did not expect to see the Avatar in my last years in this forsaken room."

"The Avatar requests your help, qu-dan," Yan-lin said, bowing her head to the floor once more.

Then, against all belief or reason, the mummy above her moved.

It started with jerks, bony fingers lifting from its lap to caress the arm of the rocky chair. Tight, papery skin shifted as its head straightened from the reclined position, and under the eerie crystalline light, it almost looked like a puppet, forced to move in awkward, inhuman twitches by invisible rods. His pain momentarily forgotten, Hikoshu took several nervous steps back.

"You are not the Avatar." He could see now its jaw working, rusty joints almost failing to crack its crusted lips.

Yan-lin remained bent over, but she didn't speak, perhaps working through what would be an appropriate response. And Hikoshu, sensing she couldn't give one, stepped forward.

"That's me…I mean, I am." He cleared his throat and gave a tentative bow, though he remained standing. "I've come to request your help."

"And what help can I offer the Avatar? I give aid to mortals on behalf of the spirits. I do not give aid to the spirits." The voice still seemed disembodied, though the dessicated form in front of him moved in time to the words. It grew more animated with every statement, its head bending for effect, its hand lifting in the air.

"It's a mortal concern I'm requesting help for." As Hikoshu approached the dais, Yan-lin straightened and watched him with apprehensive eyes. The same look anyone had whenever he spoke to someone who might be remotely important. "Help for my mortal form."

"The Avatar would do better to consult its fellow spirits for such answers."

"That's exactly what I'm doing. But through you."

The head paused, and though he could ascribe no emotion to its broken features, the qu-dan seemed to think on his suggestion. Finally, with a slow, precarious nod, she answered. "I will not deny the Avatar the help it seeks." Her hand moved up with surprising speed and waved at Yan-lin. "As demanded, the shell."

Yan-lin responded quickly, producing from her pack both the turtle-duck shell that Natquik had given him as well as a small stub of charcoal. Casting him one last look of warning, she offered it up to him and bowed her head once more.

She'd already instructed him on what to do, and he carried her orders out faithfully. First, the request. Folding Miyo's staff against his shoulder, he scratched out a rough but legible message with the coal on the bottom of the shell: _How will I lose my bending and how do I stop it_? He and Miyo had argued over the exact request; he had said knowing how to stop the Fire Nation would be a far more useful piece of advice, but she'd insisted that the solution the qu-dan gave him would be useless without knowing the problem. This was their compromise – just ask both questions. Neither of them knew which one the qu-dan would answer.

After he finished, he handed the coal back to Yan-lin and placed the shell in the now empty bowl. Keeping her head lowered, she then took the bowl and climbed the dais, where she knelt at the foot of the rock chair. Nestling the dish among a pit of stones that Hikoshu only now just noticed, she retreated slowly, never turning away from the old, withered woman.

"This shell is not from the Avatar."

As Yan-lin settled herself once more in her original position, she shot Hikoshu a wide-eyed look. "Natquik gave you the wrong shell." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Hikoshu squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing a suddenly sweaty palm on his coat. "No…I don't think he did."

Of course, that confused her for a moment. But the truth of the statement dawned on her pretty quickly, just as he stepped forward to explain himself.

"As you may understand, honorable qu-dan, the Avatar is loath to destroy life." He wasn't sure if that was why he'd had Natquik kill both turtle-ducks, or if he simply thought they were too cute to kill. Either way, the reason sounded legitimate, and if the qu-dan somehow realized he had not caught and killed his own turtle-duck – as she just did – it was the excuse he'd planned to give.

"Death is part of the balance, as is life. Death does not impede the Avatar." She rested her head against the back of her chair, as if exhausted.

"But the Avatar does not bring death. He simply doesn't stand in its way." Hikoshu had a feeling if he kept up the argument on ethics, the qu-dan would eventually win. He honestly didn't know his own morality, and certainly didn't know if there was a standard his spiritual self was supposed to recognize. Luckily, the qu-dan seemed uninterested in the dispute, waving one twisted hand dismissively.

"The shell will be read. Heed all that is said, for there is no promise what the Avatar hears is what the Avatar needs. So is the nature of a shell from another." Invisibly, her right hand stroked at something in her lap. "Light the stones."

That much, at least, he could do. With some doubt over the sustainable fire of a pit filled with nothing but rocks, Hikoshu directed a short, narrow bout of flame at the target. And drew back, surprised, as the stones actually caught. They blazed to life around the metal bowl, filling the room with an orange light, in contrast to the green crystals, and a radiating heat, in contrast to the death-like cold. It did not, however, illuminate the qu-dan's features any more. She remained shrouded in the darkness of her own robes, only the hard, undefined features of her face visible.

"You let Natquik kill both turtle-ducks?" Yan-lin asked under her breath as she straightened, her glare looking even harsher in the firelight. Hikoshu shrugged it off, though he avoided her gaze.

"I didn't feel right killing them. And I try to follow my instincts when possible."

She muttered something about his instincts which he happily didn't catch, and their attention was drawn back to the bowl as it began to rattle. The noise grew louder as the fire burned brighter, and it echoed through the chamber until it shook everything, deafening and disconcerting at the same time.

Then the shell inside audibly snapped as the heat finally broke it, and pain slashed through Hikoshu's head once more, dragging a surprised grunt from him. Grabbing at his head, he backed away from Yan-lin, half-suspecting a piece of shell launched from the fire had lodged itself in his temple. But when he pulled his hand away, there was no blood, and moments later, the pain had faded. Ignoring Yan-lin's curious look, he once again focused on the bowl.

The qu-dan leaned forward, and he could finally see the details in her face. It wasn't brown, like the other mummies; it was devoid of color altogether, taking on a sick, angry red hue from the fire. The skin was taut and thin, vessels underneath it tracing strange patterns along her cheeks and lipless mouth, giving her an appearance that was neither young nor old, but otherworldly. Her nose was a shrunken stump, an errant bit of flesh that blended with the rest of her face until nothing else was discernable except her eyes. Those, the only things lively about her, absorbed the fire and somehow made it hotter in their pupils.

"The shell has broken into three, and three is the number by which you will live and die." Her jaw moved just as disjointedly in the firelight, and the voice still seemed to come from everywhere rather than from her mouth. "Three loyalties tried, three lies told, three betrayals made, three loves held. Three factions. Three spirits. Three births. Three deaths."

She paused, as if letting those predictions sink in, and Hikoshu stepped forward in confusion. "But…that doesn't make sense." Yan-lin grabbed at his coat, hissing for him to be quiet, though he ignored her. "I'm obviously going to hear more lies than three, and certainly see more deaths than that, too. So how does that answer my question?" The qu-dan's eyes shot up, blazing, and that strange foreign feeling in the back of his mind suddenly reappeared.

"Information is given to the Avatar, its use not dictated." As her gaze returned to the shell, the sensation in his head fell away. "Like this shell, you are broken. The Avatar limps through the summer in drought and loses itself in the rain. The cycle falters, torn from its path, but continues." She leaned in further as if to read the fragments better, a hand reaching out to trace imaginary shapes in the air. "There are only two solutions. The Avatar lives by dying in the summer, reborn in the fall." And again, her eyes rose to meet his, almost accusatory. "You live to die through the spring, reborn through the winter."

Her gaze terrified him. It may have been the trick of the light, but he could detect real hatred in it – could almost feel it coming off her. He'd never seen such loathing in another person.

She continued, though, her eyes falling back to the shell. "I see three who betray. They are not the only betrayers, nor do they betray only once. But I see only what the shell says, and those three will betray. The one who asked for this shell. The one who took this shell. The one who gave this shell."

Abruptly, the fragments snapped again, and Hikoshu gasped with pain. The qu-dan's mouth pulled tight, the first physical expression she'd shown, and she stroked the hidden item in her lap once more. The fire glinted off it, and Hikoshu could see between her fingers that it closely resembled the jade boxes of the other qu-dans.

"You will be Koh's." And she leaned back, resting her head against the chair. "I see nothing else for the Avatar."

A silence set on the room, accentuated by the sizzle of the burning rocks and broken shell. Though she had officially stated the end of the reading – though the pain in his head had faded until it was like it'd never been – Hikoshu waited for more. Because he couldn't accept that was everything.

"That's…it?" he finally asked, confusion battling with irritation in his voice. "Literally, nothing else?"

"Perhaps the Avatar will bring a shell of his own next time." The qu-dan would have smirked, but she looked too exhausted to do that. Beside him, Yan-lin was once more yanking on his coat.

"But you've given me nothing at all. I can't use any of that. Riddles, conundrums – what good does it do me if I don't understand what you're saying? Why can't you explain what you mean?" As he pressed her with those questions, and as she did not respond, his anger grew. Wasted time. Wasted time, and he still couldn't save himself. "So what? Do I have to go find another shell and come back? Will that actually get me answers?"

"Hikoshu!" Yan-lin snapped loudly, and suddenly she was in front of him, glaring as she slapped a hand across his mouth.

And he would have gladly ripped her hand away in order to continue the outburst had the ground not erupted just then, throwing them both unceremoniously out of the chamber and into the hall.

**

* * *

A/N:** The prophecies are confusing, but they'll all be answered in time. However, for the most part, the answers won't be identified in text (eg, "Boy," said Hikoshu, "this must've been what the qu-dan meant when she said..."). The characters don't always know when something's happening that's been predicted, and the reader may not know either (unless they're watching close, I guess). If anyone prefers, I can just mention them in author's notes when they occur. Or, if you'd rather have the excitement of figuring them out for yourselves, I won't. Or I could just make a list and put them at the end of the story. Let me know.


	30. The Jade Box

**Chapter 29 - The Jade Box**

* * *

Hikoshu wasn't knocked out, but he was momentarily dazed. The sudden realization that he was flying through the air, followed by an even more sudden landing, left little time to sort out exactly what had happened. So as he lay on the stone and took inventory of what was hurt, broken, or fully-functional, he tried to assess the prior events and how much threat he was under now.

Whatever it was seemed to be finished, though, and as a shower of pebbles and choking dust continued to rain down on them, Yan-lin pushed herself off his chest with an angry groan. He couldn't see what she was doing in the dark, but he could her hear shuffling over the ground and rocks.

"Just great, Hikoshu. You certainly have a way with words."

"Did you _earthbend_ us out of there?" His mouth tasted gritty and metallic, and his arm was twisted uncomfortably under him where he still held Miyo's staff. Grimacing, he straightened it, the joints of his fingers aching in protest, and used the glider to get to his feet.

"I can't earthbend. And I can't believe you haven't realized that yet." Her voice trailed off in wonderment. Then, with renewed ire, "If I could earthbend, don't you think I would've used something a little softer? At least on myself?"

"Then who did? The old woman?" Fire sprung from his palm, illuminating both Yan-lin and the cave-in. She stared at him, covered in a thick sheet of dust, her hair coming loose from its braided bun.

"You know what?" Wiping dirt from her lips with her sleeve, she spat the rest out on the rocks. "I don't know. And I don't care. The fact is, it's over and we're done." She hiked her shoulders, preparing to march boldly off into the darkness, but hesitated as her eyes went wide. "And my bag's still in there!"

"What? Was your comb in it? Maybe if we just knock politely, she'll give it back." He used the tip of his staff to rap on the large rubble that now covered the entrance, and listened in exaggeration for some response. "Something tells me you'll have to move on."

"You have no idea what was in that bag." She stepped in front of him such that she was nearly on his toes, and he had to move the fire away to avoid burning her. It was hard to take any glare seriously when it was done at the height of his chest, Yan-lin's chin turned up either in indignation or in order to meet his eyes. Her dirt mustache didn't help, either.

Then again, Hikoshu was finding very little laughable about the situation. So much wasted time. Once more, his frustration resurfaced. "Well, I'm sure whatever it was, you'll replace it while searching mine."

"Grow up, Hikoshu." Yan-lin spun on her heel, storming to the edge of his light. There, perhaps feeling a little more on equal ground, she faced him again. "What you did back there was immature, disrespectful, and uncalled for. But, honestly, I don't know why I'm surprised. Pretty much all you _are_ is immature and disrespectful. You have some delusion that rules of civilized behavior don't apply to you."

She slung out an arm, pointing at the rock wall next to him. "You think you don't need tact. That when you speak, everyone is obligated to listen. But the world can and has survived without an Avatar, and it certainly can keep going without _you_. So even though you think you know better than me, or the Earth Kingdom, or even the _qu-dan_, spirits help us, you might take a moment to re-evaluate how important your opinion is to anyone outside this little ring of light."

Hikoshu scowled after her. "You want an opinion? I am standing here, having just listened to a speech that contained a lot of references to death and betrayal," he gestured toward the wall angrily with his flame-filled hand, "intending to run headlong into the very basis for that speech, doing so just because I'm the Avatar, and that's the kind of thing I do."

And now it was his turn to stalk toward her, though he was confident he had a far more commanding presence. "But here I am, being lectured by a _child_ on what I do and do not understand. A child who thinks I should've been _nicer_ to a woman telling me I'm going to die, without telling me anything I actually could use. So forgive me if I come off as a little upset about the situation, but honestly? I think it might be justified."

She'd crossed her arms over her chest, her back straight and her expression cold. But her eyes reflected the light in such a strange way that they seemed to be burning, too. She held his gaze, and her lips tightened in disgust.

"I might be a child to you, but at least I wasn't thrown backwards twenty feet for acting like one." Then, dramatically, she pivoted and marched out of the firelight, leaving Hikoshu to stare after her, agape.

Unable to linger behind, he caught up to her, though barely. Even without seeing, she still walked fast, as if apathetic what she might run into. Just outside of Hikoshu's fire, the bodies flew by, and he remembered with a shudder there were definitely things to worry about touching in the dark.

"What's this about, anyway?" He knew he should've let it go, but his conscience demanded he apologize while his pride demanded he keep firm. The result was a cut he couldn't help scratching at. "Was it your pack?"

"No, it's not my pack." Her arms swung stiffly by her sides and her head remained bent toward the floor, but her voice sounded both weary and thick.

"Then what? Were you hurt in the fall?"

"I wasn't hurt in the fall. Sometimes, Hikoshu, people just want to be mad, alright?"

"That makes no sense."

She rounded on him with an unhappy sigh, shoving a handful of hair out of her face. Hikoshu, in turn, pulled himself to an abrupt stop, yanking his arm up to keep from setting her on fire.

"Why did you have to mock me losing my bag?"

Now he was thoroughly confused, and he drew away as he stuttered over a response. "I thought you said it wasn't about the bag."

"It's not about the bag!"

"Then please tell me what it's about, because I'm completely lost."

"It's about exactly this!" She stabbed a finger into his chest, glaring at a spot just below his chin. Then, waving her hands over her head, she turned away from him. "I say one thing, you think I mean another. I make a comment, you brush it off as insipid. I try to be honest with you, and you insult me. I'm hurt, and you think it's about a bag!"

Again, she was marching off, and again, he stood there, stunned.

Finally, helplessly, he followed. "I'm sorry about the bag!" The only answer he received was an angry guttural noise. It was then he decided that trying to placate her was probably useless, and he let her rage quietly several feet in front of him. Any further thoughts he had on the subject, he kept wisely to himself. Better to let her get over it on her own.

Instead, he reflected on the fortunes given by the qu-dan. Admittedly, most of it didn't make sense, and the little that might've made sense had already fled from his mind after his fight with Yan-lin. The qu-dan had said something about him ending in rain, or becoming lost in rain, or _something_. And two choices. The Avatar dying in summer and being reborn in fall, which he took to be the Avatar cycle in its normal motion – Fire Avatar to Air Avatar. Basically, one solution was him dying.

But the other solution…she was speaking directly to him. That had been the moment she had looked at him, so accusing. And the solution was also death and rebirth. But death in the spring – a time usually associated with rebirth – and rebirth in the winter, a time usually associated with death. It made no sense, and he steadily grew angrier as he tried to work through the riddles. What good was any of this if he couldn't use it? It was a week wasted, with him no closer to the solution than before.

And the riddle of the betrayals. Three individuals. One who asked for the shell, one who brought the shell, and one who…did something else to the shell. He had guessed immediately that one of those individuals had to be Natquik. After all, he'd helped Hikoshu in the ruse surrounding the turtle-ducks. But how was Natquik going to betray him? Did the waterbender already have something planned?

And the only person he knew who'd asked for the shell was the qu-dan. Did that mean that _she_ would betray him? Did that mean that everything she'd already told him was a betrayal? And if she was literally negating all of her riddles, what did it mean for him?

Useless. So much wasted time, when he could have been looking for another, more viable source of help. He shook his head, drained, as they walked the long stretch of tunnel past the hall of corpses. It was something he'd have to talk over with Miyo and ask her insight, as she often saw things that barely occurred to him. It was too bad she couldn't have come with him. Another person to remember the riddles would have been nice.

He couldn't ask Yan-lin, that's for sure. She strode at the same break-neck pace ahead of him, never even turning to glare. He still wasn't certain what had gotten into her, and it made him miss Miyo even more. She wouldn't have been so baffling.

On the edge of his light, a bit of gold glimmered in the wall, and he slowed his steps as the original, yellow-silk mummy came into view. It sat in its same unnatural position, hidden in thick robes, hands folded in its lap. And there, above its fingers, the same jade box that had caught his attention when they first entered.

Which stirred a memory of the qu-dan's last riddle, as she stroked a similar box. _You'll be Koh's_. Who was Koh? And what was inside that box that had distracted her so much? By this time, Yan-lin had become aware that Hikoshu stopped moving, and she turned with a hand on her hip, her dusty face set in annoyance.

"What are you doing?"

He was approaching the mummy even before he really knew just what it was he was doing. "I just want to look inside the box."

"Hikoshu, I told you, leave her alone. Messing with a qu-dan, current or past, is dangerous."

He held out Miyo's staff to her, ignoring her warning. "The qu-dan told me, 'You'll be Koh's.' And when she said it, she was holding a box like this one."

"That should be more reason _not_ to disturb it. You have no idea what that box can do to either of us." She still took the staff from him, though he wasn't giving her much choice, practically shoving it into her shoulder. "Not to mention what a disturbed spirit would do."

"Yan-lin, relax. If opening a box was going to kill me, you'd think she would've said something about that. But if it makes you worry a little less, I'll offer a prayer." The prayer would mostly be empty, since he had no food or incense to offer with it. But it seemed to calm Yan-lin a bit, perhaps because he was a former Fire Sage. And really, he didn't need her anxiety in addition to the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The prayer was short, pretty generic. If the spirit would allow him one transgression without repercussion, he would offer her proper respects when possible. In reality, he wasn't sure how much the prayer mattered, anyway. The Fire Nation believed that a soul was tethered by an unburned body, unable to receive anything but food. And the Air Nomads believed that a body was empty at the point of death. What did the Earth Kingdom believe, though?

Vaguely dissatisfied that he'd really done anything at all, Hikoshu leaned in toward the mummy, trying hard not to look too closely at the parchment skin that had begun to rot at a time when the cave was damper. Or at the clothes that had fit someone four times larger than the skeleton now wearing them. All of his attention was on the opal-inset box, which seemed to swallow his fire just as it swallowed his thoughts. Deeper into the jade, so far that he couldn't even see where the jade ended and the box began.

Yan-lin sucked in her breath audibly as he cracked open the box, and he glanced back to see her standing as far away as the wall would allow, her eyes wide and body stiff. She looked genuinely scared, giving him momentary pause in his decision. But then, he rationalized, she didn't really know anything about this, either. She had no reason to be scared beyond her own superstitions. And drawn back to the object, he pushed it open with one finger, letting the lid fall back onto its hinges.

The inside was dark. Dark even when he held his palm over the interior, and light flared all around the box, highlighting the greasy bones of the hands that cradled it. Furrowing his brow, he leaned in closer and looked for shapes. Then, there, in the center, he spied something that was somehow darker than its enclosure.

Carefully, he pulled it out of the box and rolled it along his palm. Black and curved, ending in a fine, obsidian point. Almost resembling a claw, though the remnant of knuckle attached to it was hard like a shell and not withered as a paw would be. Still, nothing written on it or in the box. Just a unique trinket.

"Some sort of animal claw," he finally muttered, disappointed, and started to drop it back in its enclosure. "Nothing special."

The claw caught on his skin, scraping the inside of his thumb. The sharp point, far sharper than he had estimated, cut into the flesh. And then everything went white.

--

He was her. And she was beautiful. Young and beautiful and vain. But they wanted her that way, and she surrendered to their care with relish.

"My crops," an old, not-beautiful man croaked, prostrate before her. But the bones didn't lie, and neither did she. The words whispered through her mind, a separate presence from her, analyzing her thoughts, telling her what she should say. _Crops to die by new moon. _The bones spelled it out, each character a fine crack in their white. _I'm sorry_. But she wasn't. And neither were the words.

Then she was old. Still beautiful, still young, but old for what she was. The words still whispered, still had a presence in her mind. But there were no more words for the farmer or the childless woman. They were words for her – _time to come home_. Time. As if she could ignore the words and choose her time.

And then she was in the water. She didn't know where the water was, nor could she see anything but water. Her reflection stared up at her, earthy hair, sparkling eyes, carefully massaged skin. Beautiful. A tree was now in front of her, and she knew the tree, though she didn't know where the tree was.

The claws pinched her hands as _it_ hovered over her, circling her like a lover, and she smiled serenely into its eye. One huge, hideous eye that reflected her face. Beautiful.

--

"Hikoshu, stop!" Yan-lin's voice sounded hoarse. It was the first thing he became aware of, slowly followed by the fact she was shaking him. And his cheek hurt – a lot, like he'd been hit repeatedly. Blinking, he grabbed her arms, though it took some effort to find her elbows in the dark. She finally ceased, but her breaths were ragged, anxious.

When he produced another fire, she was standing just in front of him, her hair once again in her face, the whites showing all the way around her eyes. With almost a wild look, she gasped and stepped away from him.

"Is it you now?" She wrapped herself in her arms, backing against the wall. "You were glowing. And you didn't answer when I tried…"

"No, I'm fine." But his head hurt, and his knees felt unreliable. Next to him, the mummy watched him from its alcove, its exposed teeth almost grinning at the scene. And inside the box was the claw he'd dropped, innocuous now. Yet he could remember the monster that had once possessed it, and he shuddered. The contradiction in the vision was sickening, the beautiful qu-dan embraced by something so vile. He didn't know her fate, but it didn't take much imagination to know that it had been tragic.

Shaking his head, he spied the staff where Yan-lin had dropped it and picked it up from the ground. "I just had the strangest-"

The whispers were in his mind again.

No, they were in the cave, as he noticed Yan-lin turn to look behind him, her expression alternating between confusion and fear. He turned as well, though there was nothing to see but the dark of an empty tunnel they'd just passed. The whispers continued to grow in volume, though indistinct, flooding the small space with a sound like rushing air.

_Beautiful_. A single word screeched through the cascade, and he felt a jolt go through his spine just as pain shot through his head. _No more_.

"Hikoshu, what's going on?" Yan-lin was at his side, clutching his arm with a vise-like grip as they stared into the darkness. "What did you do?"

"I think…" He lifted his palm far enough from the staff to glimpse his thumb, and saw a thin, bleeding cut underneath. "I think I brought something from the Spirit World."

Wind whipped at his flame, and it took concentration to keep it from going out as the air was sucked in around them. _Something _was coalescing from the darkness, taking shape though that shape was practically invisible, and the wind shrieked with a near human voice. _No more._

"What did you bring back?" Yan-lin's voice had dropped to a strangled noise, and she'd begun to pull him backwards. Rooted, Hikoshu couldn't tear his eyes from the strange, black creature trying to create itself from nothing. "Hikoshu!"

_Why?_ the wind whistled.

"It's the qu-dan."

_Her_.

Hikoshu's gaze snapped to Yan-lin, and she looked up at him, her expression morphing into one of terror. Inherently, he knew who the spirit was referring to. And apparently so did she.

"Get out of here!" Hikoshu dropped his flame as he ripped his arm from her grip, shoving Miyo's staff into her hands instead. Then, thrusting her somewhere behind him, he turned to face the darkness.

_Her! _The words screamed through the tunnel, like wind smashing against a narrow crevice. Desperate, Hikoshu created a flame, cradling it in his hand as he glanced around for something that could stop a person that was already dead. The only other thing in that tunnel right then was the corpse of the spirit, and the little jade box she held.

"As the spirits command, I release you from this world." He had to scramble for the words used in funerary rites – a ritual he hadn't seen in years and had never performed himself. "I return you to your ancestors and to your home. From heat you spring and to heat you return." This wasn't going to work. He needed incense, food offerings. He needed to sing the tributes, and he needed _ten days_ in which to repeat it. There was no way this would work.

The darkness seemed to crack open, and another blast of wind buffeted him, taking out his fire. Though it didn't matter; what was empty space a moment before was now filled with a white, almost blinding light. The spirit had manifested.

"Spirits, forgive me." Touching the center of his forehead, he then turned to throw a fire blast at the mummy. It immediately caught, dry fabric and even drier skin encouraging the flames to burn everything, spreading up and out of the small alcove.

He didn't wait to see what effect it would have on that painful light, choosing then to retreat against the wind that dragged at him. But he had barely turned when he crashed into Yan-lin, the girl hidden practically at his elbow, still clutching the staff. It took a moment for him to recover from shock, but then he was herding her on, unable to afford the time it'd take to wonder why she hadn't yet left. And behind him, the strange, luminescent spirit screamed into the cave.

Dragging her by the arm, Hikoshu forced Yan-lin down the tunnel, his heart pounding despite his efforts to keep calm. Yan-lin seemed to have an equally hard time maintaining her composure, as he could feel her shake under his hand. But he didn't stop to check on her until the light of the burning corpse had dimmed, as well as that of the spirit. The tunnel abruptly forked and, without asking her which turn to take, Hikoshu pushed her into the right branch.

He had to catch his breath before he could speak, releasing her arm as he leaned against the opposite wall. Then, weakly, he produced a small flame. "If it's following, we don't have much time."

She dropped the staff and pressed a hand against the rock, her shoulders slumping. Her face was obscured by her hair, and he had trouble seeing her expression in the meager fire. But she managed a wave at his hand and wiped her arm across her forehead.

"Can you stop it?" she asked, her skin sickly white.

"I don't know." The light in the tunnel seemed to be growing brighter, and he felt his stomach creeping up into his throat as he watched it. "Hopefully when her body finishes burning, the soul will be released."

"Is that what will happen, or is it just an educated Fire Sage guess?"

"Does it matter?" He immediately regretted snapping at her. But that light was definitely getting brighter, and a perceptible breeze was flowing around them, pulling them back toward it. "Can you get us out of here?"

"I don't know." She refused to meet his eyes, leaning heavily against the wall. "I have to think."

"Well, think quickly!"

"I'm trying!" It was her turn to snap, bent over at an angle as she folded her arms around her stomach. "_Why_ did you have to disturb the body?"

"Yan-lin!"

The wind was now howling, the spirit's words piercing the high-pitched whistles, and she clutched her head as if to block out the sound. _Beautiful. No more. _

He raised his voice to talk over the words. "Yan-lin, concentrate! What was the turn here?"

"Left." Still huddled over, she squeezed her eyes shut and gave a short shake of her head. "No, right."

"Definitely right?"

"No!" And she dove down the tunnel, as if chased by demons. Which wasn't too far from the truth, Hikoshu realized with a glance behind him. He grabbed up Miyo's staff and followed.

Their escape was desperate, and Hikoshu knew they would eventually falter. They simply couldn't keep up the pace; each time they reached a new branch, Yan-lin seemed to grow more disoriented, more unsure of which tunnel to take. And each time they paused for her to consider her choice at length, the shrieking grew louder, always on the edge of their sight, always a step away from turning the corner and descending on them. His nerves raw, Hikoshu jumped whenever its light flooded into their current passage, and he could only imagine what would happen if it caught Yan-lin.

Now, the bizarre turns that had led them deeper into the cave were frustrations that never seemed to lead anywhere. Hikoshu couldn't tell if Yan-lin was remembering the way out or simply guessing at this point. When they came upon a tunnel that sat four feet higher than the one they were in, he felt relieved; at least that one, he could recognize.

But then the wind coursed so powerfully through the narrow opening that it nearly yanked him backwards. And as they crawled to a stand in the next passage, the light swamped the tunnel behind them, casting an eerie glow along the floor.

After that, he stopped paying attention. His world was limited to two things: the back of Yan-lin's head and the passageway behind him. He watched over his shoulder as the white glow of the spirit crawled just beyond each turn. Each time, he would pray that it was growing fainter – that it was starting to fade. That maybe, just maybe, burning the body had worked.

But each time, the wind would surge and the spirit would follow, unrelenting.

Finally, Yan-lin had reached the limits of her abilities. In one long passage, she came to an abrupt stop, causing him to crash into her. Biting back a sharp yelp, he let go of the staff and made another flame.

"Why are we stopped?"

In response, Yan-lin grabbed his lit hand, pulling it toward the wall where a sizeable hole interrupted the rock. "It's a turn."

"Well, then, let's go." His eyes were on the far end of the passage again, watching as that dim light quickly grew, nearly pulsing with the beats of wind that were once more pulling at them.

"I don't know if it's the right one."

"Then figure it out and get moving."

"I can't!" The plaintive note in her voice finally had his attention, and he looked back to see that she was clasping her forehead, staring helplessly into the dark hole. "I don't know. It has to be this one, but it's too dark to be right!"

There wasn't enough time. The wind was shrieking again.

"Yan-lin, listen." And he had to grasp her shoulder to make her do just that, her brow knitted over unfocused eyes. Blindly, she met his gaze. "You know the way out of here. Just tell me what you need to find it."

"I…" she trailed off, glancing over his shoulder as the color drained out of her face again. "Maybe if I could follow the turn, see if I recognize the passageway. But if it's the wrong turn, then…" She shook her head frantically, pulling away from him. "We don't have the time! I can't do it!"

She was right. There wouldn't be enough time. The words had started. _Why?_

"Yan-lin, look at me!" And again, he grabbed her, trying to rein in her terror. "We can do this. If you need time, you'll have it. Just tell me what you need."

She stared up at him, her chest heaving violently. Yet slowly – what stretched into hours for him – she got control of her breath and swallowed hard.

"You'll give me time?" He nodded quickly. "Then I need the fur trim off your coat."

It was such a bizarre request that he didn't answer at first, his hand frozen to her shoulder. Then realizing the honesty of her desire, he put out his flame and shrugged off his coat to tear at the fur hem with his bare hands. The weave was tight, but gave away under the force of his strength, driven in panic by the visible glow of the spirit as well as its pained words.

"What are you doing?"

Yan-lin didn't seem to hear his question, or perhaps chose not to answer it, seizing the trim and wrapping it around the end of Miyo's staff. Knotting it tightly, she then thrust the wadded end toward him.

"Light it."

It was then he realized what she was doing – making a torch to help her search the cave. Uncertain how well the plan would work, he set fire to the tip, and she pulled back, trying hard to keep both her hair and the flame from thrashing in the strong winds that gusted around them.

"Give me time." And that was all she said, leaving him alone in the passage as she ducked into the hole.

So he turned back toward the cave, toward the pulsating light, and scrambled for a plan.

He didn't have one when it finally rounded the corner, and even if he had, it would've been forced out as the wind tore into his ears, buffeting his head and ripping at his robes. Opposite him, the spirit filled the cave, so bright that it resembled the sun. But it was _cold_, he realized, as if it devoured both the air and its remnant heat.

Holding up an arm to shield his eyes, he squinted at the figure, trying to discern what it was. There, somewhere in the light, was a shape. It looked distinctly feminine and strangely antiquated, its undefined body clothed in billowing robes he'd never seen before. Its hair floated in the painful, ethereal glow surrounding it, blending until it became part of the light. But the spirit was more notable for one feature, or a lack thereof.

It had no face.

Despite its missing eyes, it somehow could see him. And it seemed to slow, as if hesitating at his presence. A half-formed limb lifted toward its empty face.

Then, mouthless, it began to scream.

The ghost moved more quickly than he anticipated, shooting down the passage with building speed. Panicked, he threw up a wall of fire. The wind easily tore it apart, and Hikoshu found himself facing the spirit once more as it descended on him. Next to him, his abandoned coat finally shifted loose from the ground, yanked by the gale. And when it hit the figure, there was an even brighter burst of light before it disappeared. He didn't imagine it'd come out on the other side.

Hikoshu stumbled backwards, his legs suddenly feeling weak, his heart somewhere in his throat. That wind was strong enough to pull him, too, and for a moment, he thought he'd lose the struggle to keep himself upright.

But the direction of the wind gave him an idea, even as it fought to throw him forward. Stretching his arms to either side, he focused his concentration away from the spirit. And mustering all of his strength, he airbended the engulfing light toward him. Against the omnipresent wind.

It was difficult – nearly impossible. The gale battled two commands at once, both his and the spirit's. Unfortunately, it looked like the spirit was winning out, for the breeze continued, though highly diminished. In response, the airy shriek died to a dull roar as the wind no longer fueled the ghost's cries.

And then the spirit slowed, as if the wind had not only driven its screams, but its body, as well. Suddenly, hope surged that he could stop it. But it was still moving toward him, and as he strained to halt the wind, sweat beading on his neck despite the intense cold, it became more apparent that he would fail. His resolve slipped, and so did his hold on the air.

As he began to collapse, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and drag him sideways. Weakened, he easily fell into the tunnel that Yan-lin had entered, the breeze immediately returning to a gale behind him. His chest heaving, he looked up from his spot on the ground to Yan-lin, whose face was illuminated by the glow of the spirit somewhere out of sight, her torch now extinguished. She glanced from him to the previous passageway, then grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet.

They had only started to run when the spirit appeared in the tunnel behind them, its light flooding the passage as its screams flooded their ears.

"This leads to the mouth," Yan-lin said between gasps, tugging on his arm as they ran. Recovering slowly, he stumbled along, glad the floor was smooth enough not to trip him. Whatever had been the fate of his coat, he didn't want to be his own.

Up ahead was darkness, and he doubted if Yan-lin was right. They would've seen daylight by now, if it really were the mouth. But the further they ran, the qu-dan at their heels, the more obvious it became that the tunnel simply continued.

They were slowing down as they went, the wind becoming harder to run into, its roar too deafening to speak over. And when he glanced over his shoulder, the spirit filled his vision, so close that even the fine details of its robes were perceptible.

In his preoccupation with watching the spirit overcome them, he didn't realize when Yan-lin stopped, and she yanked him backwards as he shot ahead. Gasping, he felt gravel come loose under his feet, tripping him, and he looked forward in time to see nothing but air in front of him. They were at the mouth of the cave; outside, it was night.

"We have to jump!" Yan-lin shouted over the wind as he clambered back into the cave, vertigo making his head swim. Hikoshu stared up at her in disbelief. But there wasn't any time to argue; the spirit was there.

It was then he spied Miyo's staff, still in Yan-lin's hand, wrapped in half-charred fur. Without thinking – without even being sure what he had to do – Hikoshu seized the staff from her hands and airbended the opening mechanism. It responded immediately, an orange sail springing from each side, and he took hold of the bamboo spines.

"Grab my neck!"

It felt like everything moved slowly. She threw her arms around him, and then he was leaning out over the cliff. And then he was jumping.

And then they were falling.

He didn't know how to fly – didn't know the complex sequences of airbending that would keep him adrift. So he just began guessing, bending air under the sails, over them, into them; whatever would keep them up. The glider rocked violently in response, swooping dangerously over the rocks as Yan-lin screeched into his ear. But it stayed in the air, and he forced his eyes open though his mind quailed at the sight of ground flying past them.

He didn't know how far they had made it from the cave when the glider finally tottered and fell, dumping them roughly onto the mountain. It clattered from his hand when they landed in the bushes, and they rolled across the ground, slamming into the sharp branches. Hurting but with no time to figure out how, Hikoshu pushed himself up to his knees. Far behind them, the side of the mountain blazed with the light of the spirit._ No more._ The words were faint, like a whisper, but still audible.And Hikoshu's stomach clenched.

_Why?_

Desperately, he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing through possibilities. Could he throw a fire blast at the cave and cause it to collapse? Was it too far? What would happen if that thing got outside? In a frenzy, the questions flew through his head, but no answers came with them. And under it all was a penetrating terror that made it hard to reason.

But then, before he could lose hope, the light on the mountainside suddenly flickered. And died. _Beautiful. No more._

Yan-lin rose from the ground, pushing her hair out of her face. "Is it gone?"

"I don't know." And he honestly didn't. The corpse might have finished burning. Or it might have not been able to leave the cave. It might have simply run out of time.

Either way, they were alone on the mountain. Hikoshu fell to his knees in relief, fighting back the urge to vomit. Around them, the quiet night remained dark.

Still dazed, he didn't even notice that Yan-lin had crawled forward and was now hovering in front of him. But he quickly came to attention when she slapped him hard across the face, stinging his cheek and dislodging his jaw.

"You sulfur-stinking cow-swine!" She was beating on his chest, slamming her fists across it haphazardly, and he had to hold her hands in order to stop the onslaught. "You couldn't listen to me! You almost got us killed!"

He wasn't sure what made him feel worse – the fact she seemed to be on the brink of rage-filled tears, or the fact she was right. But he couldn't let her continue in her righteous fury, or she'd probably break a rib.

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" And she somehow wrangled a hand free long enough to slap him again. "You don't get to apologize!" She was in a fury, the halo of wild hair and her shadowed face making her look like a darker version of the spirit.

"What else can I do? It was a mistake!" Before she could free herself again, he forced her at arm's length. "I didn't know what would happen."

"How dare you use ignorance as an excuse," she hissed, tearing away from him. "You are a child, Hikoshu! A child with no idea or interest in how his actions impact everyone else."

Guilt mixed with anger, and finding himself unable to respond to her accusations, he merely got to his feet in order to look for Miyo's staff. In the dark, all he could see were black shapes and broken bushes. But they were still easier to look at than Yan-lin.

She apparently didn't approve of his decision.

"Don't you turn from me!" And she grabbed his arm, yanking him around to face her. Before she could slap him again, he caught her wrist and firebended some light between them, being sure to give her his strongest glare. He was surprised to find it returned with equal ferocity, Yan-lin's expression warped in the red light.

"I made a mistake, Yan-lin!" How could he explain it so she could understand? "I was foolish, I thought I had the situation under control, and…I was wrong. I didn't want, didn't mean, to hurt you." The words sounded hollow, but he was sincere, and he felt his anger slowly melt into regret. Yan-lin seemed to change, too, her shoulders slumped and her face twitching in an attempt to hold back emotion. "I'm sorry. And I _swear_ it won't happen again."

She stared up at him silently, and for a moment, he thought she would break. But then she somehow recovered her wrath, and ripped her arm roughly from his grasp. "You don't get to apologize." Then she was gone, stalking out of the firelight.

"Hikoshu!" He turned in time for Miyo to crash into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his chest. Groaning at a sore spot she'd managed to find in her warm greeting, he pushed her off of him with his free hand. Undeterred, she seized his face and shoved it from side to side in careful examination. "What happened? What was that light we saw? What's wrong with your cheek?"

"It's nothing," he said as he tried to fend off her ministrations. "And I'm fine!"

Natquik then appeared, torch in one hand and Miyo's open glider in the other. "Hey, Miyo, I found this in the bushes." He stopped at the sight of Hikoshu and grimaced. "What'd you do? Fall off a mountain?"

"My staff!" Miyo gasped upon spying the wood, a hand to her head. She then rounded on Hikoshu, an angry wrinkle in the middle of her arrow. "You tried to fly? You could've destroyed my glider!"

"I think he already did." And unhelpfully, Natquik handed the worse-for-wear glider back to Miyo, one of its sails torn and two bamboo spines broken. "Where's Yan-lin?"

Hikoshu shook his head and shivered, remembering belatedly that he no longer had a coat. "Could we just get back to camp? I'll explain there." After he'd had a chance to rest and think.

Glancing ruefully in the direction that Yan-lin had left, he realized there was a lot to think about. On the qu-dan, the riddles. And now, his own guilt.


	31. Dragons

**Chapter 30 - Dragons**

* * *

Himizu found the Princess Tala in the Garden of Hours, a large, mossy space enclosed by drooping trees and black volcanic rock. It had an intriguing design; at any given hour of the day, the sunlight fell on some new feature of the garden, creating drastically different shadows that could be used to tell the time. Its gentle scenery was so unlike the Fire Palace, that it was the favorite retreat of her mother, and had now become a favorite retreat for her.

Tala was seated, today, by the tree-lined pond, her crimson robes draped carefully along the wooden bench, her tiara nestled in a bun that only held part of her black hair. But Himizu's attention was drawn, rather, to the dragon she was feeding, its long, undulating body nearly too large for the garden. At his approach, the dragon raised a whiskered snout and let out a grumble that caused its glistening green scales to shake.

In addition to making this her private retreat, Tala's mother had also made this a retreat for the dragons. And though Himizu had constantly warned her against coaxing wild animals into the Palace grounds, she'd been persistent. As stubborn as Nizan.

Now it seemed Tala had found her mother's love for the dragons, as she threw one last flayed puffer-minnow into its sharp teeth and turned her head toward him.

Immediately, her thin face twisted into a scowl. "Your Eminence."

"Your Highness." It was hard to keep the coolness out of his voice. But without reservation, he bowed deeply for her. Even if they didn't much like each other, Himizu recognized her sovereignty over him. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes." She paused, and he remained bowed. In fact, it went so long that he suspected she was doing it on purpose. But he didn't let his discomfort show, and eventually, she said, "Please, rise, Your Eminence."

She was letting him know his place. He wasn't so easily humiliated, though, and feigned a pleasant expression as he straightened, his hands folding into his wide sleeves. "If it wouldn't inconvenience Her Highness, I would feel more at ease without the dragon here."

"Oh? I didn't know dragons intimidated you so." She smirked at that, reaching out to pet the animal's nose. The dragon snuffled her fingers, as if searching for more food, and rumbled in disappointment.

Actually, the thought of a dragon nearby when Tala's temper could be so volatile was what made him nervous. Empathic and temperamental creatures, dragons were very sensitive to the emotions of people. And if those ran too high, the beasts could quickly become erratic.

Another reason why he never liked the Fire Lady Tala, Tala's mother and namesake, keeping them around.

"I appreciate Her Highness' understanding," he said simply, and her smirk grew. Then, with a short _shi-shu_ noise, she patted its chin, just below its fangs, and fluttered her hand. Screeching, the dragon leapt into the sky, its green body rolling as it flew into the clouds.

Himizu had to grab his simple Fire Sage's hat to keep it from being blown off his head. After the wind had stopped, he let it go and returned a smile to Tala. "How may I be of service?"

"News reached me yesterday of an arrest." She busied herself with folding the remnant fish into a wax-paper sleeve. "The Sage Yin Ke."

"Yes," he said, hesitant. News had reached him yesterday, too.

"Do you know where he's being held?"

"Mazo Prison, I believe."

"The prison for political criminals." She looked up, and her yellow eyes bored into him. "Why not one of the Temple prisons?"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I don't know. This is something that His Lordship might be better suited to answer."

"His _Lordship_," she emphasized the title with blatant ridicule, "refuses any audiences with me now. So I thought perhaps I should talk to his puppeteer instead."

Himizu forced another smile. "I don't know what you mean, Your Highness."

"You know exactly what I mean," she snapped, pushing herself to her feet. And though she was much smaller than him, she commanded the same kind of presence that her father had. "I'm not oblivious, Master Sage. I know of the factions. I know that you control Nizan. I know that everything he does is dictated by you, and I _know_ that you had Sage Yin Ke arrested."

Well, she was only partly right. Himizu really hadn't had anything to do with Yin Ke. That was all Nizan, though he'd hinted to Himizu that he'd planned it. Yin Ke had been too vocal about his suspicions over Kanzagan's death. A complete fool, ignoring everyone's warnings for him to keep quiet. Himizu had tried to talk Nizan out of arresting him. After all, Yin Ke was a Sage and therefore, by all rights, out of the jurisdiction of the Fire Lord.

And that was why he wasn't in any of the Temple prisons. Nizan had overruled Himizu, much to his disapproval.

"You say you know of 'factions.'" He ignored her accusation. Then in a rather forward move, he took a seat on the bench. Perhaps Himizu would be upbraided for acting so bold in the face of a Fire Nation Princess, but his legs hurt from the walk to the Palace. And as they were about to discuss something that no one dared discuss in the open, he didn't imagine she would complain to her absent guards.

Apparently, his assumption was right. Without protest, Tala resumed her seat beside him, though she glared at him heatedly.

"What do you know of these factions?" he continued, his tone conversational as he straightened his robes on his knees.

Tala's voice was icy. "That you wish to control the Avatar. And that my father was trying to stop you. So you _killed_ him and twisted Nizan to your cause."

It was close enough to the truth that he didn't correct her. Nor did he rise to the bait of her accusation. "I don't imagine you know the origins of the factions, then. Why one side was fighting so hard to hold onto the Avatar, and why your father was fighting so hard to stop them."

Her silence was enough of an answer. Sighing, he let his gaze roam over the shallow, brown pond, made to look deeper where the shadows of the trees fell across it. He hadn't been there since Tala's mother died, sixteen years past. Now, with the peace of the garden, he felt an odd twinge of regret. She'd been a good, if obstinate, woman. Easy to talk to, where most women were too unpredictable.

"I was a bit older than you at the end of the war," he said, resting his palms on his knees. His hands were wrinkled, the tendons pronounced under loose skin, covered in faded spots and old scars. Hands that had changed a lot in the years since the day he now recalled with bitterness. "I was one of the Sages who attended the council convened by Avatar Sidhari. When she made the proclamation that, due to crimes against the Air Nomads and Water Tribes, the Fire Nation would be sanctioned with a trade embargo."

"I know about the sanctions," Tala said sharply, and he glanced up at her delicate features that looked so much like a combination of her parents. "I know the typical rhetoric you isolationists use."

"But you still don't know why they use it." She couldn't understand; she was born nearly fifteen years after the embargo had been lifted. "Your father didn't know, either. The Fire Lord's Palace – the whole capital, in fact – was spared most of the hardship. They had ways of skirting the embargo and transporting goods. But the outlying islands…"

He shook his head sadly, his thoughts flying back to old memories of the Shiri Temple. They hadn't suffered much, either; the Temples had learned some level of self-sufficiency, so that they wouldn't have to engage in barter or trade. The laypeople of the island, however, had taken the brunt of the economic impact. And eventually, it came to affect them all, for his Temple gave everything it could until there was nothing left to give.

How could she understand what it was like to live in a world where paper was a luxury and food a scarce necessity? Where good people struggled to survive the best they could, often losing themselves in the process? She'd never seen a community on rations, nor did she know what happened to a community when those rations collapsed.

She couldn't understand.

"Your Highness," he continued, letting some emotion show in his carefully measured words, "I know what your father was trying to do. I know that he was afraid of a country that controls an Avatar exclusively. After all, we saw such an effect in Sidhari. But you must recognize what the isolationists want. If we have to live in constant fear of an Avatar being controlled, or simply being against us for one reason or another, would it not be better for us to ensure that the Avatar will be on _our_ side?"

She seemed to consider his argument, her eyes unfocused with thought. The fact that it wasn't his opinion on the subject – that he had no desire for there to be an Avatar at all – did nothing to undermine the validity of his points. If there _had_ to be an Avatar, it would be best for that Avatar to agree with the Fire Nation. For all their sakes.

But then she shook her head, her expression once more growing severe. "My father didn't see the sense in that, nor do I. It was someone's attempts to control the Avatar that brought disaster on our country before. Trying to control the Avatar again surely won't result in anything better."

There were a lot of things that had brought disaster on their country, though she unlikely grasped the history all that well. But she was right. Controlling the Avatar was not a solution. Even though she hardly realized it, Tala was agreeing with him.

"Then you should rest easy, Your Highness. No one will ever control Hikoshu, I don't think." Not anymore, at least. The last month had most certainly taken care of that. "When do you return to the Fire Academy?"

"As soon as the mourning period ends, or as soon as Nizan can order it." She sounded bitter, her glare almost accusing. From all appearances, Tala suspected Himizu was instrumental to her immediate departure. It was true he'd be happier to have her elsewhere, if only to keep her brother's attention off of her.

She didn't yet realize that Himizu had never bothered to think of her as an enemy. Nizan, on the other hand, considered her to be a very dangerous threat.

"Well, then." He got to his feet, his mood once more turning casual. "If you wish, I'll find out for you just why Sage Yin Ke was arrested-"

"I already know why," she said sharply, rising, as well. "He aided my father. And staunchly opposed you."

He studied her young, wrath-filled expression quietly. Well, yes. Yin Ke _had_ helped Kanzagan investigate Yojing's murder. But Himizu had enough support in enough places that he would not punish a lower Sage for speaking out against him. Arresting unimportant people who voiced unhappiness simply bred more unhappiness.

Something he wished Nizan would understand.

Instead of explaining that, though, he gave her another pleasant smile. "If I'd wanted to keep such a thing quiet, Your Highness, putting him in a secular prison was rather counterproductive, don't you think?" Without turning away from her, he stepped around the bench. "After all, you're asking questions. And for your one spoken question, ten other people are thinking it. Surely, you don't find me so incompetent."

She seethed, but he knew he had her. Tala didn't quite know what to think, now. As quick as she was, she could easily see that he had a point. And even if she was against him – even if she would've never been willingly manipulated – Himizu found himself regretting that she had not succeeded Kanzagan. In terms of strength and intelligence, Tala far surpassed her brother. She would've made a good ruler, and Himizu rarely said that about any woman.

It was just unfortunate that she was too smart to be of any use to Himizu.

"I'll petition for an appeal on your behalf, Your Highness," he said, holding his hat so that he could bow again. "His Lordship is unlikely to listen to me in the matter, but I would be very happy to remove my fellow Sage from Mazo Prison. It is not a proper place for a Sage to be."

"I appreciate that, Your Eminence. And I wish you good fortune in your endeavor." The anger was still there, still boiling somewhere below the surface of her cool, noble exterior. But he could sense the doubt in her now; she was wondering if she had underestimated Nizan all that time. If, perhaps, she was fighting the wrong person.

Exactly what Himizu wanted. He did not have time to fight Tala, when there were so many other things demanding his attention. He had to deal with Hikoshu's slow return to the Fire Nation, as well as the Water Tribe hostages. Not to mention Nizan's sudden unruliness and unpredictability. Then on top of all that were the ever-present demands of his position.

No, he didn't have time to worry about Tala. But more importantly, Tala didn't have time to worry about him. Unbeknownst to her, there was another dragon hovering just behind her, ready to snap her up or destroy her in a blaze.

There was always Nizan.


	32. Saowan

**Chapter 31 - Saowan**

* * *

Though it had been little over ten days since they had last seen other people, and only two weeks since they had last seen a village, Hikoshu was grateful for some new faces. Particularly ones that weren't Yan-lin's, who had remained quietly furious since their departure from the Makapu Range. As they entered the small town Yan-lin had called Saowan, Hikoshu felt a little revived, finally removed from the gloomy atmosphere that had settled on their group.

It was only Miyo who kept him on task, muttering near his ear, "Maybe your next coat will have a little more luck."

He looked at her askance, and caught a half-smile that she hadn't worn in weeks. The implication of his poor fortune with coats made him grin, too. Reaching behind him, he airbended her shawl over her head, which she pushed back with an exaggerated huff. But then her smile broadened as the shadow of a paifang arch passed over them, marking the entrance of a village just beyond the bend of the tree-lined road.

"A little secluded," they heard Natquik say somewhere behind them, and the two looked back. Unaware of their scrutiny, he stopped at the gate, grabbing the nape of his neck in unenthused wonderment. Coming up beside him, Yan-lin stared flatly.

"You live in ice huts. How much more secluded can it be?"

"Don't mind her, Natquik. She has to defend her home territory, after all," Hikoshu said, which earned a scowl from Yan-lin. Though he doubted seriously his comment was what brought on the negative response, and he frowned as she coolly walked past him.

Sensing that she was taking her leave of them, Miyo called out, "Remember, we depart at sunset, so don't be late!"

"Three copper pieces says she won't be here," Hikoshu said as Yan-lin disappeared without response around the bend and into the sparsely populated thoroughfare. Miyo arched her eyebrows, drawing back to give him the full effect of her curious look.

"And where did you get money?"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot we're broke."

She patted him on the back, swinging her staff into her other hand. "Again. Good luck on finding a coat."

"Forget the coat." Natquik had come up on the other side of him, brushing Miyo off as he clasped Hikoshu's shoulders and drew him forward. "There are better ways to keep warm in a town like this."

Miyo must have balked at his dismissive treatment. "What could possibly keep you warm other than a-?" And as if realizing his implication, she gasped. "We just got here!" A moment later, she'd caught up to them past the bend, dragging Hikoshu to a halt.

"I don't know, Miyo, I kind of like where he's going with this." Hikoshu shrugged apologetically, throwing her a lopsided grin. She didn't look amused, her grip tightening on his arm.

"You are going to find a coat with me. Now." It was hard to deny her when she glared so emphatically. So he turned the apologetic shrug on Natquik.

"She's very persuasive."

"Yak-wolf whipped," Natquik said with a shake of his head, releasing him. "Fine, fine. More for me, I suppose." Then, spying two particularly young and attractive ways to keep warm as they entered a supply shop, he brightened. "Come to think of it, I might have run out of arctic hippo gut. Might as well replace it now. I'll see you both later." And he started away from them, pulling his coat off.

Miyo was livid. "I can't believe you're running off to flirt with some local girls when we're on a mission to save your future _bride_."

He turned, walking backwards as he waved a hand helplessly. "Well, if I'm going to betray Hikoshu, betraying my marital vows seems like the least of my worries. See you at sunset!"

"We're not waiting if you're late!" Miyo said, bristling. Then, after he entered the shop, she slowly relaxed her tense frame, finally releasing her painful grip on Hikoshu's arm. "He's so flippant about it."

"About what?" He rubbed his elbow gingerly. "Cheating on his wife-to-be? You know it's innocent."

"Not that." She frowned sharply, hesitating long enough that he thought maybe it really was, and moved into the thoroughfare, away from the shops. "I meant the fact he'll betray you."

"Well, what do you expect him to do? Agonize over it and spend every waking moment swearing his loyalty to me?" The streets were narrow – much narrower than any he had seen outside of Shi Yan Feng, the Fire Nation capital, and the green tiles of three-story buildings glinted brightly above them. On either side, doors were shut tight against the impending cold, but people still moved in and out of them, drawn by the scrolls around the sills and the knowledge the stores would be open.

Yet the road seemed unusually empty, and the few, scattered heads of people were turned toward them. An Air Nomad and a Fire Islander, neither looking entirely clean, both about as worn as the glider Miyo kept fiddling with. She seemed unconcerned by their stares, or perhaps unaware, as she looked to him pensively.

"Still, how can we trust him if we know what he'll do to you?"

"What do we know he'll do?" Hikoshu redirected. "The qu-dan wasn't exactly clear on who'll betray me, or how they'll betray me, or even when. It could be anything from killing me to stealing the last rice ball."

Miyo was not impressed. "You really think the only thing a fortuneteller would have worth telling you is that someone will rob you of food?" To make her point, she drew him to a stop, facing him with red-tinged ears that actually reminded him of how cold he was. "Not only is that ridiculous, but it's also dangerously ignorant. You _know_ it's going to be something big."

"Well, what do you propose?" He lowered his voice as the people around them slowed, their own conversations fading so that only the sound of passing footsteps on paving stones filled the street. "Leave him here and finish this on our own?"

"No." Her protest was loud enough that even she looked around in sudden recognition of their rather visible situation. "Or maybe. I don't know." Anxiously, she pushed her hair behind an ear and averted her eyes to Hikoshu's chest. "We can't trust him."

"Miyo." He clasped her shoulder, ducking his head in order to catch her gaze. "You're the only one I trust anymore. Believe me. But I can't avoid my responsibilities just because I can't rely on others to keep their word."

She remained focused on his chest, but her eyes slid up to peer at him, her brow knitted in doubt. Then, nearly pushing him over, she threw her arms around his neck. Pains that had remained clandestinely sore for the last couple of days resurfaced, and he gave a soft grunt as he tried to dodge her awkward staff.

"People are staring," he muttered, peeling her off of him. Miyo pulled back with an embarrassed smile, and yanked on his topknot for good measure.

"I love you, too, Hikoshu."

Hikoshu gaped as she walked past him, then reached up to straighten the knot, giving their audience a casual look-over that probably didn't appear so casual before he followed. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Why do I have to be unwell to hug you?" Abruptly, her mood turned dark, and she wore a guarded frown when he finally caught up. "Why can't I just be happy to be your friend?"

"I didn't say you couldn't!" There was no use arguing with Miyo. Sometimes he couldn't predict which way she would react, her humor changing like the wind. So smartly, he attempted to drop the subject. "Maybe we should just focus on looking for a shop that sells coats." He wasn't sure if those actually existed; they certainly didn't in the Fire Nation. And the blank expression Miyo wore told him that they may not exist in the Earth Kingdom, either.

"So you didn't learn _anything_ about what's happening in the Fire Nation." It was a statement, because they'd already gone over it a hundred times in the last two days. If the qu-dan had told him anything he could have used, he didn't remember it. And Yan-lin was being less than obliging in reminding him.

"She said I live through drought and will disappear in rain. Which makes no sense at all. And said I'd either be reborn in the fall or reborn in the winter, which might make even less sense." He couldn't suppress the weariness in his voice.

The narrow street widened into a square, a fountain dominating the center of the plaza where water barely trickled from four stone fish along its basin. Absently, Miyo drew him around it, and Hikoshu realized she was lost in her thoughts rather than searching out a cloth shop. Frustrated, he scanned the limestone buildings beside them.

"There was another thing," he finally added, not sure if he should add anything at all. It caught Miyo's interest, though, and he realized he would have to tell her. "I think I had a chance to see into the thoughts of a past qu-dan. See what she sees. And I had the impression that there was something _telling_ her the predictions."

"You connected with a spirit?"

He kept his eyes trained on the buildings as he nodded. He hadn't told her what had happened with Yan-lin. Hadn't seen a reason to, yet. But this might be important – might be integral to understanding the message the qu-dan had. "And in my vision, I saw her sacrificed to something. Something very _bad_. And I think that…thing…is what tells the qu-dan what to say."

"So…" Miyo said after a thoughtful pause, "you think whatever this thing is might have told her what it wanted you to know?"

He shrugged, partly to cover the shiver in his shoulders. That beast – that bloated, black beast – was hard to forget, though he eagerly tried. "I don't know. But I suspect…"

Before he could finish, they were interrupted by an explosion from the building next to them. A shower of dirt and wood flew outward, and instinctively, Hikoshu threw up a shield of air. Debris smashed against the invisible wall and was forced upward, billowing over their heads.

Along with it was the shape of a body, soaring above them and toward the center of the square.

Miyo dropped her staff and swung her arms around, catching the man in a pillow of air just before he hit the fountain, his body jerking as he struggled over the water. But then he was swallowed in a cloud of dust, and blind, Miyo let him fall into the basin with a splash.

The dust settled around them as Hikoshu dropped the shield, his attention back to the half-destroyed storefront. From it emerged a balding, middle-aged man, his face partially hidden in a thick beard, his shoulders straining the cloth of his brown robes. And he looked murderous, a short sickle clutched tightly in his fist.

A man who looked to be the store owner was behind him, long gray robes bundled between his fists in anxiety, and he tripped over debris as he followed the enraged fellow. "Jian, stop! Someone stop him!" Shouts and screams had filled the plaza at that point, and several people were running to do just that. But without even looking, this Jian bended walls of earth to slam into them, blocking them from interfering.

"Out of the way!" It was the only warning he and Miyo had from the gruff-voiced man. One moment, Hikoshu was standing on solid ground, and the next, he was also flying through the air. Stunned, he barely had time to twist onto his shoulder, absorbing the impact through his back as he landed. When he rolled to his feet, he could see Miyo floating to the ground across from him, and Jian striding with purpose toward the fountain.

The man bended the cloud of dust up and away from his path, pausing only long enough to toss backwards another person rushing to the aid of the man in the fountain. The latter came up from the water spluttering, his arms wrapped around the lip.

"Jian, no!" he choked out, his hands slipping on the gray rock. "I swear I have it."

"I'm done with you, Hoshi." Jian waved his sickle in a threatening manner, then slammed its point into the earth. "I'm making sure you take me seriously this time."

When he pulled the sickle away, a chunk of earth about the size of Hikoshu's head came up with it. He hauled the weapon back, then swung it toward Hoshi, knocking the clod at him. Only the deft interception of Miyo's airbending changed its trajectory, and the rock fell harmlessly next to the fountain.

Wide-eyed, Jian slowly twisted his gaze toward Miyo, and Hikoshu could see his neck grow redder. "Who in the four hells are you?" And then his shoulders shifted as he slammed his foot down, the earth shooting up in response.

Hikoshu reacted swiftly, a wind blast catching Jian in the back. He tumbled, head over heels, as the wave of earth came to an abrupt stop just in front of Miyo. Stepping back, she paled and moved into an airbending stance.

Meanwhile, Jian managed to recover without falling on his sickle, his face twisting in fury as he rose from his knees.

"Listen," Hikoshu said quickly, his hands held up to fend off the man's anger, "you need to calm down and talk this out. We've got no fight with you." But apparently, whatever he'd been wanting to take out on Hoshi, Jian now wanted to take out on him. With a wordless growl, he flung himself toward Hikoshu, the ground erupting around him.

Hikoshu dodged the flying dirt to either side, though it wasn't difficult; the clods Jian threw were going wide of him, and as he ducked under one lucky shot, he wondered if the man was drunk. But the momentary lapse in attention nearly cost him, Jian moving quicker than a drunk man probably should, and he almost had his stomach sliced open with the edge of the sharp sickle. Blocking the attack, he grabbed Jian's wrist and swung him around using his own momentum. He then brought his foot up, slamming his heel into Jian's mid-section.

Jian stumbled backwards, the sickle falling from his hands as, gasping, he grabbed at his abdomen. Hikoshu readied himself for another barrage of earth, but Jian surprised him. He drew back on one bare foot, pulling his arm high above his head.

And the ground disappeared below Hikoshu.

It was like liquid, swallowing him to his chest. Horrified, he tried to push himself out, but the earth was once more firm, holding him tight. And he realized, with a glance upward, it was Miyo who had kept Jian from burying him whole, the airbender sliding to a stop between them with her staff in her hands.

Jian slowly straightened with a vague, stunned look as he eyed Miyo. Then he brought his fists up, and the ground holding Hikoshu rumbled. Suddenly he shot into the air, carried by a chunk of earth that still held onto his legs. All he could see were blurs of blue, and his stomach lurched, his mind reeling in response.

When he stopped moving, he was too high in the air to see anything but the roofs of buildings and the sky. Yet he forced himself to think beyond his cold sweat and pounding heart. He wasn't falling, which meant something held him suspended. And the mystery of who – or what – that was sent a wave of terror through him, making him scrabble at his little piece of land for something to cling to.

Somewhere below him, he heard a soft shriek, and the boulder holding him abruptly yanked sideways. Then he was falling, so quickly that he didn't even know what was happening until he smashed against the ground, the rock breaking painfully around his legs and chest. The air crushed from his lungs, he lay where he had rolled, his mind registering little more than shock.

And when he finally recovered enough to push himself to his knees, he turned to take in the fight. Miyo was missing, but Jian was still pressing an attack. His opponent was now Natquik, who struck out at him with a sluice of water from the fountain. Jian blocked it with an earth wall, which he then sent hurtling toward the waterbender. Natquik managed to somersault out of the way.

In pain, Hikoshu studied Jian and his attacks. They were erratic enough that the man certainly didn't appear coherent, though Hikoshu didn't know if it was from drink or from anger. Natquik, either limited by the amount of water he had or unwilling to hurt Jian, was merely dodging his attacks now. Perhaps waiting for his rage to burn out.

But Hikoshu wasn't that patient. And he was tired of trying not to hurt a man who obviously was trying to hurt them. The helplessness he'd felt in his last battles resurfaced, as well as the frustration when he couldn't protect Miyo. Just as he couldn't protect her now. One of the most powerful men in the world, and he couldn't take on a firebender single-handedly. Or a waterbender. Or even a drunk earthbender.

Suddenly, it wasn't just about stopping the stranger, or protecting the man in the fountain. Hikoshu had to prove something to himself, and as his resolve hardened, so did his own anger.

Even as Jian threw a large rock at Natquik, Hikoshu leveled a gust of air to toss the boulder away. And then he threw a fire blast into the earthbender's shoulder as he stormed toward him, spinning Jian around.

Dazed, Jian took a moment to register his new opponent. Then he once more moved into the bending form that'd swallow Hikoshu in earth. But Hikoshu was prepared, and he airbended off the ground as it sank under him. Upon landing, he swung his leg out, kicking an arc of flame to throw Jian off balance. But the man blocked it with a rock wall that Hikoshu easily demolished in just one fiery punch. And for the first time, Jian looked worried. He barely managed to block the subsequent attacks of fire, his face invisible behind the mixture of earth and flames.

His frustration fueling his rage, and his rage fueling his bending, Hikoshu didn't care. He didn't even care when Jian, desperate, bended a mound of earth and sent it rushing toward him. He simply jumped over it, as if no attack could touch him, landing on the other side to start his assault once more.

The next blast sent Jian sprawling, the earthbender temporarily incapacitated. And Hikoshu felt a burst of satisfaction. He done it; he'd successfully won the fight and stopped others from getting hurt. Now all that was left was to make sure Jian wouldn't get up again. Brimming with triumph, he barreled down on the man, prepared to finish the fight for good.

But instead, he flew over Jian, struck by a force of water. He rolled back to his feet, pivoting in time to see water wash over Jian and freeze instantly, holding his body to the ground while the earthbender's head swiveled around in shock.

And then Natquik was between them, pushing a hand into Hikoshu's chest. "Calm down, Hikoshu! I think you beat him."

Natquik's gesture to the surrounding plaza caught his attention, and he paused long enough to give the square a quick scan. There were people on all sides, gathered in clusters near the destroyed building, a few helping the poor, sodden Hoshi out of the fountain. But they were all staring at him. Anticipating the next move of this stranger who could only be the Avatar.

The ground rumbled, and the sound of ice cracking put Hikoshu back on guard. There was no need; Jian had freed himself from the frozen shield, but not to attack. Instead, he lay prostrate along the earth, his knees folded under his chest with his arms spread in supplication.

"Forgive me, Avatar," he said, his voice muffled in the dirt. "I didn't realize – I was carried away…"

"You weren't the only one," Natquik muttered, and finally removed his hand from Hikoshu's chest. Grown self-conscious under the gaze of the onlookers, Hikoshu tried his best to ignore the comment, choosing rather to address Jian.

"Mind explaining why you destroyed a building and attacked six people?"

Jian's eyes slid to the man who crouched on the fountain basin, his head hung low, someone's robe on his shoulders. And suddenly the submissive expression was replaced with rage, his face turning red.

"He owes me for my land."

"And I will pay!" The smaller man had managed to find his voice, though it cracked hoarsely, and he held the robe tight around him. "I just need more time."

"How much time, Hoshi? The land is ruined and barren! You'll never produce anything on it, and certainly not money!" Jian rose to his feet, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "You lied to me."

Hikoshu's ribs ached where he'd smashed into the ground, and his head was quickly following. This was a personal fight that he'd only been involved in because of Miyo.

Miyo.

He whipped around, looking frantically over the square. But she was nowhere in sight. "Natquik, where's Miyo?"

The waterbender's eyes went wide. Twisting, he threw up his arms, and the remaining water of the fountain formed a wave. A couple of people screamed as it loomed in the air, its shadow over the thoroughfare, and then it came crashing down on an uninteresting pile of dirt.

When it washed away, the dirt mound was gone and Miyo was in its place.

The cold water must have revived her, and she rose up gasping and coughing, a hand clutching at the shawl across her breast. Disoriented, she blinked toward the scene, and Hikoshu felt a stab of guilt for forgetting her.

But not apparently as much guilt as Natquik, who was immediately at her side, collecting muddy water in order to make sure she was alright. Still choking, she merely shook her mud-caked head and tried to get up.

Before he could go to her, Hikoshu found himself confronted once more with Jian's fury. Stepping in front of the earthbender, who had begun to advance on the cowering Hoshi, he stuck up a hand to stop him.

"Listen, I don't know what your friend-"

"My brother-in-law," Jian corrected without looking at him, and Hikoshu noted that there was a distinct, sour smell of alcohol on his breath. Though Jian had likely sobered up in the ensuing fight, it apparently had done nothing to cool his temper.

"Alright, I don't know what he did or _didn't_ do, but I highly suggest you try talking this out before killing him. You'll both probably get more out of it."

"I don't intend to kill him." Jian cracked his knuckles for effect. "I intend to take my money out of his skin."

Hoshi, dazed and terrified, looked to Hikoshu beseechingly. "I couldn't pay for the land. I promised him I'd pay out of whatever I could grow in three months, but nothing is growing anymore!"

"In the meantime, I gave you prime pastureland. Tell him that, Hoshi! Prime pastureland that is now ruined, impossible to sell. And you gave me your word that you would pay double what I would have made." Jian was working himself up into a fever, and Hikoshu once more blocked him with his arm. "Money that I have to have now, or my _own_ land goes under."

"And how is fighting him going to get you that money?"

"Let me have a go at him, and we'll see if it works."

"What's the land worth?" Natquik said as he approached, Miyo's arm draped over his shoulder, his body bent to hold her weight. Miyo's eyes were squeezed shut, and she cleared her throat softly as she grasped her head.

Jian considered him, calculating, perhaps assuming erroneously that Natquik would pay him what he asked. Hikoshu, on the other hand, was curious to know exactly _what_ his plan was, as he already knew Natquik had no money.

"Fifty gold pieces," he said, and Hikoshu wasn't sure if that price hadn't been inflated. The murmuring crowd certainly suggested the amount was high. But unfazed, Natquik reached under his coat and produced a leather pouch. He threw it to Hikoshu and adjusted his grip on Miyo.

"Count out a hundred gold pieces. Give whatever's left to his brother."

Hikoshu stared at him, then slowly did as he commanded. He would have to talk to Natquik later about where this money came from, or why they didn't know about it sooner. Right now, though, it seemed the best way to defuse a bad situation.

As he dumped the coins into Jian's hands, he said sternly, "This is to pay for the land and whatever damage you caused here today. So unless you plan to lose more money, this fight ends now. Got it?" Jian's eyes remained on the pouch, as if trying to figure out how much he just lost on the deal, but he nodded.

Turning, Hikoshu airbended the pouch to Hoshi, who nearly fumbled it between his frigid fingers. To Hikoshu's relief, Hoshi chose not to count the rest of the pouch in front of Jian, instead clutching it to his chest as if Natquik would demand it back.

The matter now handled, he moved away from Jian and toward Miyo, who had wrested her arm from Natquik's neck. But at that moment, a smaller, brown-headed figure appeared in his path, and he drew up short.

"You can't go an hour without making an exhibition?" Yan-lin hissed, glaring up at him. From all appearances, she was still a little mad at him, he noted dryly.

"I didn't _want_ any of this," he said with an irritated frown, but she looked incredulous.

"Well, you have it. So, Master Avatar, figure out how to fix it." And then she wheeled on her foot, a bright smile plastered on her face as a short, chubby man in a tall, thin hat approached them. "Mayor Sanyu, I'm so sorry for all this commotion…"

She was launching into political wranglings, and Hikoshu took the opportunity to survey the damage. There were no paving stones left in this area of the square, the ground as disrupted as the half-destroyed building. And there were even more people now than there had been at the end of the fight. One of them, apparently, was the wife – or sister – of Jian, who was now between both him and Hoshi, berating them as severely as he imagined Yan-lin wanted to berate him.

And there was Miyo, her face dirty, hair hanging in muddy strands. She brushed at her robes idly and twisted one side of her mouth into a grin.

Hikoshu shrugged, trying to look as repentant as he possibly could. "Thanks for saving me."

"Thank you, too."

He gave her a wan smile, uncertain if he deserved the gratitude, and gestured around the plaza. "Let's find your glider. And maybe a bath." Forcefully, he tried not to think about the previous fight. Or how easy it had been to let his anger get the best of him.

Still, despite his regret at losing control, there was another part of him that wasn't sorry at all. A small part of him still reveling in his victory.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"So ends the glory of the Fire Nation. So pass the flames of our pride."

Himizu dropped a heavy copper lid on the ceremonial bowl of fire, and its hollow ring echoed in the room. Despite the respectful silence demanded by tradition, there were a handful of audible sighs, probably from acolytes hidden along the heavy crimson curtains that intermittently broke up the room's stone walls. Certainly, he thought, not from the trained Sages who knelt in neat rows below him, their red swathed figures bowed in prayer.

"As the sun weakens, we entreat the Spirits of Fire, the Spirits of our Islands, to give us strength and dignity in the cold months to come." Of course, it was rarely ever cold in the Fire Nation. But the prayer was metaphorical, as was the cold. Symbolic of those months when their power waned and they became comparatively weak. "Protect your people, as we honor your presence. Guide your people, as we sing your tributes." He allowed the smoke of the eight incense sticks to rise toward the ceiling. One stick for each island. A fragrance unique to each. But a moment later, he doused them in water, each one separately, finishing with the stick meant to represent the Dragon Island itself.

And his concentration was abruptly broken by a soft hiss from the curtained wings of his dais.

A glance to his right showed that Huan, one of the younger Sages, was trying to get his attention. Himizu suppressed annoyance; if the young man was willing to interrupt something as important as the Summer's End Ritual, he must have urgent news. Grunting under his breath, he caught the eye of Baocai, the Second of the Five Sages, who promptly climbed to the altar. Relieved of his duty to finish the service, Himizu retreated to his right and allowed his subordinate to take over.

He didn't speak until they had left the sanctuary through an invisible door, and even then, he waited to usher the Sage into a private room before he addressed him.

"This better be worth my time, Huan."

"The Avatar has just been sighted, Your Eminence." Huan wrung his hands nervously, sweat beading just above his short, black goatee. Uninterested in his anxiety – most young Sages were nervous when in his company – Himizu removed his heavy red overrobe and folded it carefully over his arm.

"And how is this sighting of any particular note?"

"He was seen in Saowan. Two days outside the Makapu mountains."

That was curious. Hikoshu should have been through the mountains much sooner. After his departure from the Northern Air Temple, the Avatar's whereabouts had been a mystery to Himizu. But even given a generous amount of time, he should have been closer to the Fire Nation than that, by now.

The room – a rarely used storage area for sacred objects and talismans – was cluttered. Yet Himizu easily found one wood cabinet buried under gold brocades and produced from it a bottle of ceremonial wine. Lacking cups, he simply handed the entire thing to Huan. The Sage took it with a grateful smile, but he didn't open it.

"He was also seen in the company of a young woman named Yan-lin." The way he said it indicated that Huan had no idea what that meant. But Himizu knew exactly how important it was, a strange jolt going through his chest. He trained his face toward unconcern as he straightened the robe across his arm.

"How did you come about this information?"

"The Fire Lord received a letter from informants in the area just before noon." Huan finally decided it was safe to crack the seal on the bottle and take a swig. "Knowing that you were in worship, he asked me to relay the message."

Then maybe Kuzon didn't know yet. Or, if he did, maybe he didn't know the significance of Yan-lin and the Makapus. This was certainly a new development, and one he hadn't anticipated. Apparently Gi-luon was making a move on the Avatar. Using his daughter and likely the qu-dan to gain the very information that Himizu wanted. Did it mean that Gi-Luon had already been successful? How much time did Himizu have?

"How long ago was the message sent?" His mind raced through the new complications, reconsidering old plans, abandoning half-created ones. There were so many missteps right now that he could make, but so many advantages finally in reach. Rifling through the dusty junk, he managed to find a scrap of rice paper and the stub of an old incense bar. With a few, jerky scratches, he wrote out a message and folded the paper in half.

"Two days, perhaps?" Huan's voice filled with confusion, and he lowered the bottle as Himizu offered the sheet to him.

"I need you to find someone. Lieutenant-Commander Shuxing. Do you know him?"

"Second to Commander Yahui."

"Good. I need you to find him quickly, give him this slip of paper. He won't question you, and you shouldn't give him answers. Understand?"

"Yes, but…"

Himizu had already slipped on his overrobe and opened the door. The instructions were simple; Huan shouldn't have any problems. As he realized that Himizu was dismissing him, he took one more pull off the bottle, laid it on a half-filled shelf, and marched resolutely out of the room.

Himizu's thoughts had already moved on. Obviously, Gi-Luon was already trying to gather information, and he was using Yan-lin to do it. This was something he was keeping a close eye on, involving his daughter in such a way. And Himizu wanted in on that plan, as well.

It would take some finesse, but he could turn this to his advantage. All he needed was Yan-lin.

**

* * *

A/N: **This chapter has not been as heavily edited as the others, so please comment if you see any mistakes.

Also, the name Shi Yan Feng is totally made up. But c'mon, I can't keep calling it "the Fire Nation capital" and "Fire Nation City" sounds really lame…


	33. The Rain

**Chapter 33 - The Rain**

* * *

Natquik knew she was watching him. But Natquik wasn't shy, nor did he ever profess to be modest. So he enjoyed the attention with about as much enthusiasm as he usually had when young women admired him from afar.

Except he had the distinct impression it wasn't with admiration that she studied him.

Eventually, he had washed every part of him that could be washed while within view of a woman not his wife. So, splashing chilly water over his head one more time, he waded through the waist-high river toward the bank, quirking his brows at the girl who waited for him there. "I hope I'm entertaining you."

Yan-lin lifted her head from her knees, her unbound hair over her shoulders and arms. "Aren't you a little cold?"

"If you don't turn around, you may just find out." He motioned for her to look away with a finger, and she sighed, obviously not amused by his inelegant humor. But ceding to his request, she twisted in her spot, and he picked his way along the rocks to retrieve his clothes.

"I didn't peg you as someone so bashful," she said, and he shrugged despite the fact she had her back to him. "Seeing as you tease anything that can giggle."

"And you're wondering why I don't tease you?"

She turned her head to pin him out of the corner of her eye, but he'd already bended away the extra water and pulled on his clothes. "Well, you flirt with nuns without shame, of all people, so I have to admit, I _am_ a little curious."

"Easy." He leaned down as he neared her, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "I don't like politicians."

"Why? Did one bite you as a child?"

"Funny, but no. I just find the biggest part of them to be disingenuous." As he sat across from her, he flashed her a grin to take off the insulting edge of his words. "And I am nothing, if not completely genuine."

Her expression was wry. "Won't you find it hard to avoid politics when you're married to a _princess_?"

"Water Tribe politics aren't the same as the Earth Kingdoms'. And besides, I said I have a problem with the politicians, not politics. That's Hikoshu you're thinking of."

At the mention of his name, Yan-lin's mood perceptibly darkened, and her eyes slipped to the nearby treeline. Their drawn-out battle of angry glares had continued for well over a week, and Hikoshu's current absence didn't deter her from pulling out her arsenal of cold shoulders. It was enough to try even Natquik's eternal patience.

"Look," he said as he pulled his hair back in a tie, resisting the urge to sigh, "I obviously have no business commenting on whatever happened between you two. And I know, given that you'll only be with us a day or two longer, there's really no point in mending hurt feelings now. But, honestly, as a politician and Earth Kingdom diplomat, you must realize it's kind of childish to be fighting with the Avatar like this."

That apparently hit a sore spot, as she shot him a look just as venomous as the ones she'd been sparing the forest. "Because I don't like someone, I'm childish?"

Natquik held his hands up quickly to defend against the inevitable fight. "Sorry, wrong choice of words. What I mean is, you'll be working with this man for the rest of your life – not against him. So why start it all off on such bad footing?"

"Don't you ever think that this might be the problem with Hikoshu?"

"What problem?"

"This!" And she waved a hand angrily, taking in the half-formed camp, Hikoshu's unfinished fire pit and Miyo's pack lying where the two had left them that morning. "When you talk to me, you tell me I have to shape up, because _he's_ the Avatar. And everyone's been telling everyone else around him the same thing, all of his life. Don't you think you give him too much power over you?"

Natquik stared, unable to grasp her point. "But…he does have power over me. He's the Avatar, Yan-lin."

She made a disgusted noise and dropped her head into her hands, hiding her face in her palms. "He's just a man. A man who makes stupid mistakes that he can't recognize because people like _you_ tell him he can't make mistakes."

"I didn't say he was infallible. I just said he was powerful."

Again, another sound of revulsion, and she shook her head against her fingers. "How can you accept the authority of someone you can't even depend on to be a fit leader?"

"I don't respect the man he is. I respect the man he'll one day be." And suddenly, he became aware of how painfully young Yan-lin was. To her, the world was still a mixture of black and white, tainted by shades of history and other men's lives. What it lacked was the vibrant color that only experience and understanding would bring.

"Listen," he said, fishing his gloves out of his pocket and pulling them on, "I understand the anger you probably feel toward him, given your country's history. And to tell you the truth, sometimes I don't blame you. But there are two paths ahead of you now. You can keep on hating him, driven by whatever reason you deem good enough, and you can mask it while you search for ways to undermine him. Or you can accept that he _is_ human, he _does_ make mistakes, and – like you – he will be a better person for them."

Yan-lin lifted her head to meet his gaze, her fingers still over her mouth. "If path-two will make me a better person, then what will path-one make me?" Natquik gave her a half-grin, knowing she'd already anticipated his answer.

"Well, it'd make you a politician."

Despite the set-up, she still laughed – a clean, throaty laugh that matched her low, court-trained voice. Leaning back on her hands, she returned the grin, and abruptly, the dark cloud over them was gone.

"You give good advice, Natquik."

"It comes from years of needing it myself."

"Do you need any now? You've obligated me to trade."

Natquik frowned, feigning deep thought. Introspection, though, wasn't necessarily something he practiced regularly. It was easier to see other people's flaws than his own. "No, I think I'm pretty much perfect at this point. But if I ever become mired in self-pity, I'll look for you."

"So I hope, then, you've come to believe in my own honesty?"

"Well, you have years ahead of you to be corrupted."

She cracked a smile, and whatever tension that had existed between them was broken. The morning hours spent in awkward silence, after Hikoshu and Miyo had left for breakfast, were now forgotten, and they chatted as comfortably as friends. Actually, it was the most relaxed he'd been around her the entire trip, and he began to regret that she would part from their company in only two days' time.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us? See the world?" he asked at one point, only half-jokingly. Yan-lin shook her head with mock regret.

"Though I might look like I'm adventuresome, I actually don't enjoy too much excitement," she confided, pulling her brown over-robe tight against a chill breeze. "I'd rather return to my station in the middle of nowhere and watch the grass grow. Or however much it can, in this weather." Grimacing, she examined the sky as if searching out a cloud.

"The cold will kill whatever the drought hasn't," Natquik agreed, following her gaze. "Fortunate for the Water Tribes, and myself, that we don't have to worry about the latter so much. I'm harassed enough as it is. Don't need to be adding to it."

"Adding what?" She threw a curious look to him, rubbing at her red-tipped nose. Natquik returned the look, though he was more confused than curious.

"What do you mean? You don't know?" As she spoke Water Tribe, he would've sworn she already knew. There wasn't a tribesman who didn't. But she shook her head, her expression becoming even more baffled. "I'm a descendent of the trout-crow clan." Still no recognition. "The clan marked by the Rain Spirit?"

It was as if Yan-lin had viewed a ghost. No longer was there a blank stare of confusion; she blanched visibly, her eyes seeing something beyond him. And unnerved, Natquik turned to look for what had caused her mood to change so rapidly. He saw nothing; just river, rocks, and pines. Frowning, he glanced back at her, and realized she was staring at him.

Until a noise caught his attention, and his gaze moved to the forest. There, the sound of trees rustling announced someone's approach, and Natquik fully expected Rosma to come trampling through the woods.

But it wasn't Rosma.

The beasts that broke out of the forest were not nearly the size of the bison, but they were still formidable, their black bodies sleek and muscular, their muzzles coming to a fleshy point covered in dozens of short, pink spines. They were so dark that their eyes were lost in their fur. Or perhaps they didn't have eyes at all. Natquik had no time to decide which.

Yan-lin had grabbed his arm, trying to drag him to his feet. "Shirshus!" she nearly screamed, and he had no idea what the word meant, but knew if she was this terrified, he should be, too. Stumbling over the rocks, she pulled him away from the forest and toward the river.

The shirshus had seen them. And with savage snarls, they shot across the bank.

"Get back!" He yanked his arm out of her grip and turned to bend water out of the river. It answered weakly, partially blocked by his gloves, and he ripped them off as the two creatures barreled down on him. Just in time, he managed to raise a wall of water to wash them away. One of the shirshus darted its tongue out before it was bowled over, and Natquik jerked back in surprise as it snapped right before his face.

"Watch the tongues!" he heard Yan-lin shout somewhere behind him. Caught off-guard, he looked to her, but fire filled his vision, and he dove to the left to avoid it.

Natquik then became aware that the shirshus were not acting alone. They had riders, one of which had been knocked off and who was now advancing on foot. And behind the recovering beasts were more men – all dressed in the dark greens of Earth Kingdom peasants, all holding the stances of firebenders.

"We've been ambushed," he said dully, uncertain if Yan-lin heard him. "Get out of here!" He spun toward her and a tendril of water came out of the river, wrapping itself around Yan-lin's waist. It pulled her into the stream as she shrieked in surprise, and he turned back to the encroaching forces, intent on stalling for time.

But, he realized quickly, they weren't looking for him, or for Hikoshu. They were looking for Yan-lin.

Both shirshus rushed toward the river where she had disappeared, and he pulled out an arc of water to force them back. A firebender jumped at the barrier to destroy it with a flaming kick, but Natquik had already created another water whip, snapping it across the man's head. He went down quickly.

One of the shirshus tried to catch him with its tongue. He barely dodged, and tried to slice it with a stream of water. The shirshu was too fast, however, and his water knife found only air. Already, though, his focus was on one of the firebenders who was throwing fiery blasts at him. Natquik blocked each, but he knew it was simply to distract him while they went after Yan-lin somewhere in the river.

So he wiped the man's legs from under him, and clasped his hands above his head. Water – a huge amount of water – flooded over his arms, towering over him, almost as high as the trees. And with a strained heave, he brought it down on the camp.

It shook the ground where it hit, throwing several men off their feet, washing one of the shirshus into the river. But it didn't take out everyone, and as he attempted to raise another barrier against the remaining firebenders, he saw out of the corner of his eye a man stagger out of the river, towing a screaming, kicking Yan-lin.

And as he turned to stop him, he felt the last shirshu's tongue lash his ear. Then everything went numb, his water falling apart just as he collapsed to the ground. Panicked, he tried to stand, but none of his limbs responded. He was a motionless lump, as useless as if he'd been knocked out cold.

One of the men he had hit grasped the front of his coat and hauled him up, his amber eyes burning with anger.

"What do you want to do with the waterbender, commander?"

The man who captured Yan-lin had managed to get her under control, both her hands tied behind her back, his hand around her throat. Dressed as a simple farmer, he approached them, yanking hard on Yan-lin's wrists to get her to move. "He said not to hurt the Avatar or her. He didn't say anything about other people."

The firebender clutching Natquik grunted and pulled a knife from his belt, which brought a gasp from Yan-lin.

"Oh, please don't! Don't hurt him!"

Her renewed struggle frustrated the commander, and he pressed hard against her throat until her eyes rolled upward and her head fell sideways. Then he handed her unconscious form to another green-robed man with muttered instructions to be careful.

Almost as soon as she was taken away, the man holding Natquik pushed the edge of the knife against his neck, just below his ear. And suddenly he was glad he wouldn't be able to feel the blade.

"Hold it, Jinho. Don't kill him." The commander's expression was ambivalent, as if he'd had to fight with himself over whether or not it was worth stopping the soldier. In turn, Jinho paused, glancing up in question. "You can't bring back the dead. Just knock him out."

Jinho made a noise of acknowledgment, but it sounded less than pleased. As the commander walked away, he dumped Natquik on the ground and disappeared from view. A moment later, he reappeared, carrying a branch as thick as his arm.

Natquik then realized that, while he was ordered not to kill, Jinho certainly intended to maim. And as he swung the branch down, Natquik tried to remember how many head wounds he'd seen people survive.

Not many, he concluded, as everything went fuzzy, and then black.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The wind brushed his hair in his face, forcing Hikoshu to pick it out of his eyes and mouth. He hardly noticed, though, his gaze resting on the distant blue mountains that captured the light of a low, southern sun. Some of them belonged to the Makapu Range, anonymous now in the stretch of sharp peaks hazy with clouds. They were equally vague in his memory, characterized by little more than darkness and fear.

Somewhere behind him, Miyo had pulled herself into the saddle, choosing to let Rosma find his way back to the campsite on his own as she searched the packs for something to eat. A half-day of searching for food that wasn't some sort of animal – much to Natquik's chagrin – and all they had found wasn't enough to fill two sacks. It really had been a dry year.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me," Miyo said as she dug her fingers into the side of a meager pomegranate, the discarded peel tossed over the saddle. Rosma groaned, though doubtfully from the pieces of fruit hitting him.

"Huh, what?" Hikoshu looked up, distracted, from his study of the mountainous horizon, then shrugged. "Sure, no problem. I haven't had much of an appetite for meat these days, anyway." That was the reason he'd given her for wanting to go on this foraging trip. In reality, he just didn't want to spend any more time than necessary in camp with Yan-lin. Her stony silence was beginning to destroy his nerves, and every time he saw her, he felt a sudden desire to sink into the ground.

Hopefully, she'd be gone soon, anyway.

"I'm glad," Miyo continued as she plucked the tiny red seeds loose, "because I can finally have a chance to talk to you. Candidly."

"What about?" The frank expression she wore gave him pause, and he wracked his mind for something he hadn't told her. Miyo rarely ever looked that way if she planned to discuss a topic she thought he'd participate in freely. So certainly he wasn't going to be happy about whatever she intended.

"It's about Natquik." And abruptly, he relaxed his guard. He'd actually waited for her to broach the subject, particularly since the incident in Saowan less than a week previously. But they'd had little opportunity to be alone until now, and speaking about Natquik in front of Natquik would have been a little awkward.

"You're going to ask about the money, aren't you?"

"It's been on your mind, too?"

Well, of course, it'd been on his mind. Ever since Natquik had pulled the purse out of nowhere, and later admitted sheepishly that the Chieftess had given it to him prior to departure, 'in case of emergency.' And particularly now, when they were foraging for food because they didn't have the money to buy things at any of the occasional towns they saw.

Miyo looked relieved, as if she had anticipated dismissal but instead found a confidant. "So you think he may have betrayed us, also."

"What?" Startled, he turned around enough to stare at her.

"The betrayal. He betrayed you by not telling us about the money." Miyo grew defensive at his dubious look, and dug her fingers deeper into the pomegranate. "Well, think of how many problems it could have solved had we only known!"

"Maybe two?" He plucked at the thick wool sleeve of his new over-robe, which the mayor had given him despite their extreme poverty. "I thought you were just going to complain about his exuberant generosity."

"But what if this is what the qu-dan meant? What if this comes back to haunt us?"

"I think you just want this to be it." Hikoshu turned back to the horizon, folding his arms on the saddle edge once more. "Something innocent, harmless, and done with."

"What do you mean by that?"

But he didn't answer, allowing his mind to trail back into glum thoughts, not at all helped by simultaneous feelings of hunger and airsickness. Even if Natquik's excuse for not mentioning it before – that he didn't think it was all that important – seemed pretty weak to Hikoshu, it was still reasonable. After all, Hikoshu didn't know the value of money to the Water Tribes. And the waterbender's apology should have been enough. It couldn't possibly qualify as a betrayal.

Could it?

"Well, if you don't want to talk about Natquik, then maybe you'll want to talk about Yan-lin."

That was actually the last thing he wanted to talk about, and he scowled openly as he shifted his body further away from her. Why she chose now to bring up the awkward relationship, when they were so close to dropping Yan-lin off at Gaipan, he couldn't guess. It seemed ridiculous to discuss what would no longer be a problem in two days' time.

"What's there to talk about? We've already been over it." And he certainly didn't want to discuss it again. This trip was supposed to be about getting away from Yan-lin, not dwelling on her.

"And you've had a week to _get_ over it, but neither of you seem to be doing that." She dropped the fruit in her lap as she tilted her head, frustrated. "You haven't even tried to talk to her. It's like living on the brink of a war zone, and that just doesn't go very well with my pacifistic nature."

"Does it even matter?" Ignoring the queasy feeling that rolled along his stomach every time Rosma rocked, he leaned over to take the pomegranate from her. "A couple of days, and she'll just be a memory. Then we can finally get back to what we should've been doing all along." He pointedly examined the fruit as he pulled seeds out of it, ignoring what he expected to be a flat expression on her part. After all, he'd just told her what she'd been saying since they left the Air Temple.

"For someone trying to pretend not to care, you're doing a very poor job." Her hand appeared, seizing his, and forced him to look up at her. She sat on her knees, towering over him, her hair and robes catching on the breeze as she stared down at him almost sympathetically. "I don't want you to talk to her for her sake, but for yours."

His mind reeled at how suddenly very caring Miyo seemed, and he pushed her back, handing the fruit off to her. "Listen, I told you I'm fine. I explained to her my side. I apologized. There's nothing left for me to say to her." Again, he turned back to the horizon, his arms returning to the saddle ledge. "So we're not having this conversation. Alright?"

"Hikoshu, I'm just trying to help!" She actually sounded wounded, and he had to refrain from scoffing. "You've been acting so depressed lately, and Yan-lin won't even look at you. She sits on the opposite side of the bison, and she literally disappeared the moment we reached Saowan."

"It's no longer my problem. If we could just get to Gaipan, I'm sure I'll be much happier."

"But you won't even talk about it!"

"Because there's nothing to talk about!" He snapped around, throwing his arms wide in helpless surrender. Miyo, who'd been edging closer to him, flew back to avoid being hit. "I almost killed her, and she blames me. Simple as that. If there's anyone who has an issue to talk through, it's Yan-lin." He gestured toward the earth before once more folding his elbows on the wood. "Go bother her. Try to make her feel happy."

He sighed and rested his chin on his sleeves, the short stubble of his beard catching on the soft wool fabric. To be honest with himself – if not Miyo – he just didn't like thinking about her. She was right. Right about everything. He had messed up, and it had endangered her. Some hero he was supposed to be; so far, he had nearly killed more people than he had actually saved. So he knew he had nothing he could say to her, and her obvious refusal to forgive him was making him a wreck.

"Fine." Miyo was definitely angry, and he could practically sense her moving back to Rosma's head. "You've made it more than abundantly clear that you don't need me. So you can just deal with your own problems. I won't _bother_ you by trying to help anymore."

"Oh, no. You're not going to guilt me over this." He followed after her, stopping short of climbing over the saddle and onto the bison's neck. She'd settled herself once more on Rosma's tan stripe, her back to him as she clutched the reins in her fists. "I can't believe you're going to sit there and make me feel worse about it."

"Well, Hikoshu, sometimes I get tired of trying to make you feel better." They both glared at each other, Hikoshu from the saddle, Miyo over her shoulder, and for several moments, the only sounds were the wind and Rosma's oscillating tail.

They were interrupted by the loud crack of thunder.

Both of them jumped and looked forward quickly, scanning the sky before them. There, as if forming out of nothing, dark clouds gathered, lightning flashing across their belly.

"It's a storm," Miyo stated, her voice underscored with surprise. "It's developing fast."

"And we're flying right into it," Hikoshu said, backing up into the saddle.

"The camp's nearby. We'll have to fly under it."

The conversation forgotten, Hikoshu found his usual spot used for clinging on for dear life and assumed his usual position. And after a short time of nothing but the increasingly louder thunder claps, Rosma finally began to descend.

The first drops that fell stunned him, freezing against his scalp and the back of his hands. He watched in curiosity as they splashed against the bamboo saddle, rolling along the frame to travel in rivulets down toward Rosma. Soon, though, the rain came in sheets, and everything was just a mist. He tried to bend the rainwater off himself, as Natquik had explained how to do, but he lost his concentration every time Rosma flew down, and eventually, he was too wet to care anymore.

Rosma, on the other hand, had grown visibly nervous, his body rumbling with a groan after each lightning strike. If Hikoshu had felt comfortable letting go of his perch, he may have suggested that Miyo land and wait out the storm. But the combination of descent and rain kept him from making any comments, and it was with relief he finally saw the treetops through the shower.

Rosma seemed equally relieved as he landed heavily on the rain-soaked rocks. Even before Hikoshu pushed himself from the saddle, the bison was moving quickly for the trees, its singular thought to get out of the rain and away from the swiftly flowing river they'd settled beside.

"Where's camp?" Hikoshu said as he approached Miyo, hefting one of the food packs onto his shoulder. She seemed to be thinking the same, a hand shielding her eyes to scan the surrounding area.

"This was supposed to be it," she murmured, so low that he could barely hear her over the dull roar. Making her way across the rocks, she peered carefully at the trees. To Hikoshu, they looked strange, as if their lowest branches had been smashed. There was nothing of their camp, no indication that anyone had been here.

"Oh, spirits," Miyo gasped, loud enough for him to catch it. She took off across the rocks, slipping on them as she scrambled to some location a dozen yards away. Hikoshu couldn't see what had caught her attention at first. But then he noticed the body-shaped lump lying only a few feet from the river.

When he managed to stumble to the spot where Miyo had run, she was already cradling the man's head in her arms. Which, Hikoshu realized by his coat, was Natquik. But his face was so swollen on one side that he was hardly recognizable, and the rain had obviously washed away a copious amount of blood from the gash across his cheek and above his eye.

"He's breathing," she said, her voice shaking, as her fingers circled around his throat. "He's alive, but dear spirits, I don't know how."

"Protect his nose and mouth from the rain." Hikoshu knelt beside her, drawing her cold, trembling hand over Natquik's face. "Keep the water off of him, and try not to move his head." The instructions were simply reflexive; he didn't know much about head injuries, nor did Miyo. The only person who would, in fact, was Natquik.

"I have to find Yan-lin," he continued, giving her shoulder a weak squeeze before he got up to scan the surrounding forest. There was no other movement – no other sign of life in that dreary, rain-obscured world. Quelling the anxiety that Natquik's prostrate form had created in him, Hikoshu turned on his heel.

"Yan-lin!" he shouted, yet no one answered him over the wind and water. He tried again and again, each attempt a little more frantic. But if she were out there, she couldn't hear him. Or she couldn't respond. Leaving Miyo to tend to Natquik, he made his way for the forest. "Yan-lin! Where are you?"

There. Something that frightened him, even as it confused him. There were scratches and burn marks deep into the bark of the trees, darkened with soot and rain. And there were a lot of them, too. With a final glance to Miyo, he dove into the forest, intent to follow the trail as far as it led. But within a few yards, it ended just as suddenly as it appeared, and he was surrounded by uninterrupted wet pines and underbrush.

"Yan-lin's gone," he said as he came back, his eyes skimming the river bank in vain. "There are scorch marks everywhere. And the trees around the camp are torn up."

"Scorch marks? As in fires?" Miyo sounded just as baffled and scared as he, her hair hanging in wet clumps around her stricken face, her shawl sticking to her arms. "Someone had torches?"

"Someone had firebenders." The word filled him with dread, and he hardly wanted to think of the possibilities. "They were looking for something."

"They were looking for you," Miyo corrected as she hovered over Natquik to protect his head from the rain. "But how? How did they know where we are?"

"They took Yan-lin." Hikoshu ignored her question, abandoning his half-blind search of the river. "If they were after me, they wouldn't have taken her."

"Or she's been washed down the river. How do you know she's still alive?"

"I don't!" he snapped at her, and with difficulty pulled back his temper. "I don't know anything. All I know is that there are signs of a fight, of a fight with _firebenders_, and Yan-lin's gone."

There was a tense silence, as Hikoshu stood above the two, his mind racing over every possibility, and Miyo carefully pulled Natquik further into her lap. Then, hitting upon an idea, Hikoshu quickly took her shoulder.

"Come on, we have to go."

"What?" She yanked her shoulder easily out of his grip, slicked as it was with rain. "Where?"

"If we get on Rosma, we can search the area before they get too far."

"Are you crazy?"

"If they had been here too long before the rain, the trees would have burned a lot more. So they're probably still nearby, if we can just get above the trees and look for them."

"I'm not leaving Natquik!"

"We can take him with us."

Miyo held up a threatening hand, as if afraid he might actually try to move Natquik against her wishes. "It's storming, Hikoshu. Natquik's hurt, and you want to get back on Rosma and look for people we don't even know are there?"

"They're obviously there! Look at the trees!" Hikoshu waved violently toward the forest, but she didn't even turn her head.

"Let's say she isn't dead. Let's say – on the small possibility – that she's really been kidnapped and isn't a mile down the river now. You don't even know who was here! You say they're firebenders, but based on what? Some charred trees? You know as well as I that she has enemies here. Or what if it's a trap? What if they set this whole thing up to _make_ you go looking for her?"

"Then it's working!" Frustrated, he grabbed at his head, his words punctuated by thunder. "You don't understand. _I'm_ the reason she's here. _I'm_ the reason she was nearly killed in the first place. And if these were firebenders, then I'm certainly the reason she's been taken!"

"Hikoshu," she said dangerously, but with a hint of sadness.

"Miyo, you have to do this for me," and he knelt beside her to catch her eyes in a pleading gaze. "I can't do it without you. I don't know how to track people, and I would never make it in this rain. I _need_ you right now."

She looked away quickly, her mouth twisting into a tight frown that seemed to warp her whole expression. Then, with a glance to Natquik, she shook her head.

"This once, Hikoshu, it's not about you. You can go, but I'm not going with you. Not this time."

"Miyo…"

"I'm staying with Natquik." There was a note of finality in her voice, so strong that he knew there would be no discussion. He was free to leave, but it would be without her.

Fury mixed with a sense of powerlessness, and if he could have set the sky on fire and burned up the rain, he would have. Suddenly, though, he felt very tired. Worn out, as if guilt and anger couldn't fuel him anymore. Giving a weak nod, he pushed himself to his feet and moved closer to the river.

This was a moment of decision, but he had no decision to make. Leaving without Miyo, searching the forest alone, was tantamount to suicide. And Miyo would never agree to go along. So helpless and weary, he simply seated himself by them and waited for the rain to stop.


	34. Waiting

**Chapter 33 - Waiting**

* * *

Gi-Luon clutched the railing of the covered balcony as he watched a handful of people below hurrying just to get out of the rain. The streets were flooded with muddy water which flowed swiftly downhill, toward the unlucky buildings located at the base of the sloped town.

As a port city on a mountain range, Taku saw its share of heavy rains and flooding. And because of that, it had a sophisticated sewage system in place to divert that water to the Lu Tan river. Unfortunately, though, the system had not been cleaned during the extended drought, and this freak storm had caught everyone off-guard.

So people in the city proper struggled to keep water out of their homes, and fishermen at the ports struggled to keep their boats moored against the waves and high tides. Officials – the kind that would be catering to his visit – were overwhelmed in emergencies, and so Gi-Luon was left to his own devices.

Which was fine, for Gi-Luon had a lot on his mind. Turning back into the earthen room, lavishly decorated with folding screens and animal skins, he absently found an andiron and swung it over his hand. On the desk to his left, near the fireplace, was a pile of papers. Most of them were unimportant – details of his divisions in the south, lists of men who had been appointed or reappointed, or removed altogether. Inventories of how much grain the cities in his jurisdiction were exporting.

In other words, his life and duty, following him to every town, never too far from his reach. But none of that concerned him now. Instead, what occupied his mind was one scrap of paper, folded and hidden behind the teapot. He didn't even need to look at it to know every word, as he had read it enough times to have it memorized.

_Lost my pack on the mountain. Will find a blacksmith in Gaipan. News in one week._

It was Yan-lin's handwriting, as well as her informal seal. She'd sent it ten days previously from a small town just outside the Makapus, and ever since its arrival eight days prior, he'd been waiting for a message out of Gaipan.

No message had come.

He'd already run through all possible complications. She had lost her pack, which meant the documents she'd been carrying to identify herself in Gaipan were lost, as well. The second plan was then to find the blacksmith on the north side of town and, with the aid of a family code, secure his help in finding transport. But Gi-Luon never knew if that happened, or if Yan-lin had been discovered before she found an escort.

The result, at any rate, was that Yan-lin was missing, and with her, the information he so desperately wanted.

If someone had taken her, was it for the information that she now held? Or was it simply, hopefully, a mere ransom by some half-starved deviants? If the latter, how long until he knew their demands? And if the former, how long until Yan-lin broke?

It was foolish to put a child on such a task, and he reprimanded himself severely as he pulled a seat closer to the fire. He'd thought to keep it as close to him as possible – to keep the knowledge of his plans limited to only those he could trust. In retrospect, though, the people he trusted were not nearly competent enough to do what he asked. And now, with all of his nerves as tense as they ever were during strategy meetings, he waited for _something_ to come out of Gaipan.

_News in one week_.

She had something to tell him, important enough to send an unnecessary message. And if she was hurt or captured, it would be all the silly girl's fault.

With a pang of regret, he sighed and poked at the fire, listening to the drum of the rain on tiles overhead as he waited patiently for her news from Gaipan. And for news of her.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

It rained for days. And Miyo rarely left Natquik's side.

After the first few hours, Hikoshu's mood seemed to improve a little, and he finally found the motivation to search out Rosma. The bison, however, terrified by something more than just lightning, refused to come out of the woods. Even when Miyo tried her hand at coaxing him out, he would not leave the protection of the trees.

Then Hikoshu decided it'd be best to have a fire, with which she thankfully agreed. The fire would require some cover from the rain, though, and Hikoshu began building a shelter at their spot next to the river. Unfortunately, even using supplies pilfered from Natquik's bag, he couldn't make a structure that would keep the fire underneath it dry enough. And while they both could have managed the cold to some degree, Miyo wasn't sure how well Natquik in his incapacitated state would handle the freezing rain.

So before the end of the evening, she and Hikoshu had to chance moving him into the trees near Rosma, who looked about as bedraggled as they, unable to bend himself dry in such weather. The first night was cold and uncomfortable, and she fell asleep folded against a reeking bison that snuffled unhappily at their predicament.

The next morning, she set about building the shelter that Hikoshu couldn't, climbing trees to find thick branches that she could mesh together in a canopy. When she finally returned to the ground, her palms were raw and scratched from the needles and bark, and she knew there were probably a few bleeding cuts on her face. But she'd woven together enough branches between the two trees covering them to direct the majority of rain off to either side. Still, a small amount of rain leaked through, and no matter how many times she tried to adjust Natquik, an errant drip would always somehow find him.

With no dry wood nearby for a fire, Hikoshu tried to dry some branches himself. Firebending, airbending, waterbending – he used all three in attempts to get the kindling to catch. It took several hours, and noon came and went before he had a fire that actually held. Poor Rosma, unable to get entirely under the shelter or near the fire, huddled as close as he could to the party, and Miyo vowed once she'd rested her hands to build the canopy further back for the bison.

They said nothing to each other the entire day, each working on his or her assigned task, bent on being productive rather than talking. As Hikoshu struggled with the fire, she tended to Natquik, wiping at the gashes on his face. They were deep, red and inflamed, and pronounced against the thick purple swelling that now hid his eye and cheek. It looked so unlike Natquik that she might have wondered if it _was _him. Yet the right side of his face was normal, as tranquil as if he were simply sleeping. And it scared her because she didn't think he was.

Quietly, she worked at cleaning the wounds. She wasn't a healer, however much she wished she was, at that moment. But she knew enough to protect the injury, and Natquik had always emphasized preventing infection. So she studiously ignored the way her stomach flipped when she pressed a water-soaked rag against his cheek, or the nagging doubts in her mind that maybe she wasn't doing it right. Eventually, though, she admitted to herself she really didn't know _what_ she was doing, and gave up for fear of making things worse.

As the afternoon slowly rolled into evening, and the rain continued to pour, Miyo and Hikoshu finally sat across the fire from each other in awkward silence. She had to admit that it was more out of guilt that she didn't speak. When Hikoshu had asked her at his greatest moment of need to help him, she'd turned him away, after all. Did he resent it? Did he regret ever having her along? But she didn't regret her own decision. Sometimes, hard choices had to be made. And she couldn't be certain that Natquik would have survived the trip if they'd taken off blindly in the rain.

It was the right decision. But, as she glanced up at her friend, his dark eyes fixed on the fire, she still felt incredibly guilty. There had to be something she could do to make it up to him. Currently, though, the only thing she could do was be cold and sad.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, just when the silence and misery were becoming too much for her to bear. "You were right to want to stay. Chasing after nobody was foolish at best, and dangerous for Natquik." Glancing wearily at the waterbender, he folded his arms tightly across his chest. "But I made a promise to Yan-lin not to let anything happen to her." The recollection of the oath – or perhaps of her – made him frown at the fire. "And obviously I couldn't keep it."

Miyo stayed quiet as she studied him. The cold had reddened his face, more so than the fire, but he looked haggard, his eyes sunken. She couldn't tell how much of it was a trick of the fire and his beard, and how much of it was from worry.

"It's hard," he said after a long pause, "trying to come to grips with the idea that, just by virtue of being yourself, you endanger everyone around you." Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. "That whatever happens, it's my fault that it's happening to you."

"Stop it," Miyo said so sharply that Hikoshu looked up at her, his expression tortured but surprised. "You're being ridiculous. Don't you think we _know_ what you are? We are not children that you tricked into following you. I was there the night we were attacked! And I agreed to come anyway, because I love you. Natquik-" she waved at him, sparing his unmoving body a sad glance "-is here because his family is in danger. And Yan-lin offered to help. We aren't here because of you. We're here _for _you."

Hikoshu didn't speak, and she took it as an opportunity to continue her rebuke. "Since the night at the Air Temple, you've been guilty. Always over something that's happening to someone else. But you have to realize that you can't be responsible for everyone. And all this guilt – it's not selfless. It's the exact opposite! Because you stop thinking about what you have to do, and more about what you _should've_ done. And you just can't do that, Hikoshu."

That somehow hit the nerve that was so shallowly buried in Hikoshu's temper, and his jaw tightened. "Believe me, I don't want to feel guilty about everything that happens to you. But what choice do I have? This is who I am. What I'm supposed to do." Suddenly his tone turned bitter. "This is my life, Miyo, and I can't help but be a little unhappy about it."

"Now _you're_ starting on this whole thing about destinies?" She gave a frustrated sigh. "Sure, fine. You're the Avatar. But that's not a destiny. That's a role. You're still just Hikoshu, a hot-tempered, overly-distracted man who gives in too easily and fights too much. And that's all you are. Forget what everyone else says."

She left her spot beside Natquik to crawl next to him, and he made room for her, though he still looked pretty dejected. "You can be whatever you want," she finished softly. "And right now, I just want you to be my friend."

He finally glanced up and gave her a weak, if encouraging, smile. Then he pulled an arm around her, and she relaxed into his hold, allowing herself briefly to feel as miserable as he had just been. But after a moment, it faded, and she was just glad to have him there. It was a short respite, but long enough that she could fall asleep.

When she awoke the next morning, it was to a day just as gray as the one before. Though no longer pouring, the light rain still kept everything soaked, the wind occasionally forcing it sideways to douse their long-dead fire. A quick look around showed that both Hikoshu and Rosma were gone, leaving her alone with the unconscious Natquik.

He was still breathing, which was always the first thing she checked. The sleeping roll they'd covered him with had kept him mostly dry, and the swelling had gone down enough that she could make out his left eye. Carefully, she again wiped the cuts on his face, wishing not for the first time that she had been more attentive when she watched other nuns dress wounds.

There was a moment when he moved his shoulder – the first real movement in over a day – and she thought he would wake up. But groaning deep in his throat, he went limp again and made no other signs of consciousness. Still, it put her on edge, and she watched him earnestly for the rest of the morning. Nothing changed except the rainfall.

It must have been after noon when Hikoshu showed up on the back of Rosma, and Miyo had to admit she was impressed he'd managed to convince the bison to let him on. Perhaps Rosma understood part of Hikoshu's intentions, for he dumped a large number of leafy branches and wood on the ground to use on their shelter.

"If Natquik were awake, he'd probably want to kill something and use its hide," he joked as he jumped down from Rosma's saddle-less back. Rosma rumbled and began eating their bounty, which earned an admonishment from Hikoshu. It was almost comical, watching him plant a foot against the beast's nose as he pulled at the branch between its teeth, and for a moment, Miyo didn't feel so dreary.

They worked together that afternoon, trying to build a shelter large enough for Rosma. And by evening, with the rain pelting down, they'd made one that would keep the bison for the most part dry. Dinner was sparse, as their food had already been limited and now it was soaked. Together, they ate silently, lost in their own thoughts, though she assumed they were probably along the same lines. How long should they wait for Natquik to get better? How long _could_ they wait?

The next morning, they both noted that the river had grown much faster, climbing up its bank.

"We're pretty far from it, but the land's also flat," Hikoshu explained, airbending himself dry from his excursion out of the shelter. "If it rains another day or two like this, it's possible this entire area could be flooded."

"Do we just find somewhere else?" Miyo asked, and his silence was filled with doubt. But she already knew what he was thinking. In two days, it wouldn't matter if they moved Natquik somewhere else. They couldn't keep putting off their mission, when there was no certainty he would get better. If the river rose much higher, then it would be best just to continue on to the Fire Nation. Regardless of Natquik's condition. "Can we at least drop him off in Taku?"

"Do you know anyone in Taku?"

She didn't. "I could stay with him, and you could go on without us." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't a possibility. Hikoshu couldn't fly Rosma. And right now, he needed her more.

Hikoshu didn't give her any other alternatives, leaving her instead to make her own choices. As the day wore on, and the storm continued, unrelenting, the decision grew even more imminent. She stayed beside Natquik, watching for any movement or gesture that might indicate he would wake up. Sickly pale except for the ugly purple bruises, he was as still as death, and only his shallow breathing proved he was alive at all.

Another night passed, though she slept even less comfortably than the ones before. Tomorrow, she would have to make up her mind on when they should leave. But she felt like there wasn't any choice given to her. So she prayed fervently to the spirits that in the morning, the outlook would be a little less gloomy.

At least one prayer was answered. By mid-morning, the rain ceased almost as quickly as it began, and the clouds broke up, the crisp blue autumn sky peeking between them. When a low sun found its way out, the world glittered, looking cleaner than it had in months. But Miyo's mood was unimproved. The river was higher.

Perhaps daunted by her dark mood, which was surprisingly now darker than his, Hikoshu offered to look for food with Rosma. They both knew it was pointless – the reason they'd left three days prior, the whole reason that Natquik was hurt and Yan-lin missing, was because there was nothing growing nearby. But she knew that he was giving her this time by herself. Time for her to decide how soon until they left.

As she'd been doing for the past two days, she seated herself by Natquik and simply watched. After all, there wasn't much else she _could_ do, aside from the prayers that she periodically murmured under her breath. The time wore on, and she made no decision. All she needed was a little longer, to see if he would come back on his own.

Miyo grew despondent, every moment losing just a little more hope that this would turn out right. And her prayers became fewer until she said nothing at all, her hand resting on Natquik's chilly head. Her best option was to make Hikoshu wait until the morning. But then, they would have no choice at all. They would have to risk moving Natquik, taking him with them to the Fire Nation.

So burdened was she with these thoughts, she didn't even see the initial jerks of his shoulder. When he grunted, though, it shook her from her fretting, and she noticed, surprised, that he was trying to move.

"Natquik?" she whispered, and resisted the urge to touch him, afraid that even breathing might make her lose him again. "Please, wake up." He went motionless, and in her terror, she seized his arms. "Don't! Wake up."

That somehow stirred him. His eyes never opened, but his lips shifted, and faintly, he croaked, "Water."

She hesitated, uncertain she'd heard him correctly, then scrambled across the camp, nearly burning herself on the stones of the fire pit. Retrieving a dish they'd used to collect rainwater, she brought it back a little more carefully and set it next to his head.

"Here! Here you are."

Blind, he floundered with one hand for the item in question, and she grabbed his wrist to stick his palm against the clay bowl. For a few moments, Natquik simply felt it, as if not really sure what it was. Then he pushed his fingers into the water, and the entire dish began to glow white. Awkwardly, he brought his palm back to his cheek, Miyo wincing at the force with which he clapped the broken jaw. With the same unusual blue-white light, the left side of his face glowed under his touch.

When he uncovered his cheek, it looked the exact same, still purple and swollen. But the gashes were now gone, and the jaw didn't look quite so oddly shaped. He'd healed himself, though he made no other movement – no other sign that he was conscious at all. In mere seconds, he was gone again, as still as he had been before.

The effect Natquik's brief arousal had on Miyo was varied. On one hand, she was ecstatic, hope blossoming where there'd been nothing but despair. She felt revived, as if nothing could go wrong now. On the other hand, she was positively terrified. What if something _did _go wrong? He was still so pale. What if he didn't wake up again, or what if he took a turn for the worse? He had almost come back; was there still a chance he wouldn't? With such a mixture of emotions, she studied him in mounting anxiety, her heart caught somewhere against her chest. And without Hikoshu there, another hour of tense silence passed before Natquik woke again.

This time, his right eye opened a crack. "My face hurts," he muttered, his lips barely moving. "Got any water?"

She laughed roughly and pushed back a weary sob. "Just what you used to heal yourself with earlier."

"I'll drink it." And one hand lifted into the air, his fingers waving in request. She tried to control her shaking as she pressed the bowl against his palm, and then propped his head in her lap.

After three days of nothing, he was parched, and he drank so greedily that he choked. Afraid that he would drown, Miyo pulled the bowl away from his reluctant grasp. But the right side of his mouth twitched into a smile, and one blue eye regarded her behind a fog.

"It's not fair I can't enjoy this."

"Stop it." If he kept on talking, she knew she would break, and so she glared down at him for full effect. "You're lucky you're alive."

"Sorry." His eye slowly closed again, making her heart jump into her throat. "So I've already healed myself?" He couldn't see her nod. "Doesn't feel like it."

"Are you strong enough to be moved?"

He winced visibly. "Moved where?"

"To Rosma. We need to get to the Fire Nation."

"I'll think about it," and he was drifting off. Panicked at the prospect of losing him, she seized his shoulders and gave them a quick shake.

"Stay awake. Natquik!"

"I'm just sleeping." He tried to brush her off, forcing her to pull her head back to avoid being hit. "It's fine, it's fine." A moment later, he was unconscious again.

Hikoshu eventually returned, the ground shaking as Rosma ambled through the wet undergrowth next to him. Neither looked particularly laden with food, though Hikoshu proffered several muddy roots from his pack as a testament to his foraging prowess.

"Most of it was Rosma," he candidly admitted, brushing off the tubers as he searched the shelter. "You'd think he's too large to find such small things, but not so. Of course, he ate two or three to make sure they're safe."

"You tested it on Rosma?" Miyo said, accusatory, as she dug a comb out of her own pack. Natquik's reawakening had taken an enormous burden off of her, and suddenly the tangled mass that was her hair had become intolerable.

"Rosma was happy to oblige. Have you seen the pot?"

"Oh, Natquik was using it."

The revelation made Hikoshu twist around, his expression shocked and somewhat incredulous. "Natquik was awake?"

Miyo knew she was grinning just a bit too broadly, but she nodded anyhow, yanking the comb through her hair. "He healed himself. I think he's going to be alright."

Speechless, Hikoshu glanced between her and Natquik's supine form, still apparently doubtful that he'd been up at all. Finally, he managed to find his voice, and dropped the roots next to the fire, half-forgotten.

"Well, what did he say?"

"Not much. His jaw still hurts him." Hikoshu seemed both excited and disappointed, and he absently went to the river to collect more water to boil the vegetables. Afterward, he sat at Natquik's side almost as attentively as Miyo had, as if he could hurry the waterbender into recovery.

It was well into the evening before that happened. Natquik woke with a start, taking a deep, noisy breath as he tried to push himself up. But immediately, Miyo was holding him down, and Hikoshu was at her shoulder, neither of them really able to see him in the shadows they cast from the fire.

"Yan-lin. Where's Yan-lin?" he asked, disoriented, his words muffled by his still-swollen cheek.

"Natquik," Hikoshu said over Miyo's shoulder, and the waterbender looked up at him, his gaze unfocused. "What happened here?"

"Yan-lin," he repeated, trying to push himself up again despite Miyo's quiet insistence. "We were attacked."

"Who attacked you?" Hikoshu pressed, but Natquik seemed to lose his train of thought, his one good eye shifting to Miyo.

"I need water." Prepared this time, she simply handed him the filled pot, and he stared at it quizzically as he propped himself up on an elbow. Then, taking a cupful in his palm, he pressed it once more to his cheek. They were all flooded with the white glow of the water, and it spilled away as he finished his examination of his own head.

"I don't know," Natquik finally said, sounding far more coherent. He took a large gulp from the dish, then lay back as he clasped his left temple. "Firebenders, on some kind of animal. Big black things, with long tongues that paralyze."

Miyo looked up at Hikoshu, horrified. "Shirshus? That's how they must've found us."

"So they_ were_ looking for us?" His expression was also troubled; this easily confirmed their suspicions that the Fire Nation knew they were outside of the North Pole. And possibly knew they were headed that way.

"You were right. They're after you."

"No." Natquik peered at them from below his palm, his one normal eye bright despite the darkness. "They were after Yan-lin."

Abruptly, Hikoshu pushed into Miyo as he knelt beside her, and she moved to give him more room. "How do you know?"

Natquik closed his eye, as if fighting off a wave of pain. "They took her."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, having my head smashed in _did_ make it a little hard for me to double-check, but yes, I'm pretty certain." Obviously, his sense of humor was coming back, if not his chipper mood, and he shifted uncomfortably under the sleeping roll. "Why does it smell like a wet bison in a wood pile?"

"It's been raining since we found you," Miyo said. "We moved you under the trees." Then, distracted, she looked to Hikoshu. "Do you think they wanted you to know they took her?"

"To force me to go to the Fire Nation to save her? Why not just capture me, instead?" Hikoshu was obviously dubious. "Besides, she's the daughter of a powerful man. Why would they want to anger the Earth Kingdom?"

"We might ask them that while we're trying to rescue the _other_ people they inexplicably kidnapped," Natquik said, then gave a short groan, dropping his hand from his head. "My jaw is killing me."

"Then stop talking," Miyo said, though without thinking, she added, "Are you sure they were firebenders?"

"There were flames coming out of their feet. I don't think I could mistake them."

"So that's it." Hikoshu stood up, and suddenly, the resolve he'd found that first day by the river returned. "We have to get to the Fire Nation."

"Not tonight. Tonight, Natquik's sleeping." Miyo gave him a stern look, and reluctantly, he nodded. "Twelve hours at this point won't get us there sooner, anyway."

"You're too kind," Natquik murmured, his eye already closed in exhaustion. "Think I could get a kiss goodnight?"

"Just go to sleep." She made sure to sound humorless, but really, she felt like laughing. And at that moment, she was relieved enough that, if she hadn't known he was kidding, she would've gladly given him one.

Just to thank him for not dying. And for not leaving her.


	35. The Second Betrayal

**Chapter 34 – The Second Betrayal**

* * *

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Admiral Kuzon said, fuming quite magnificently. Even his usual red color had turned an extraordinary purple, and Himizu marveled at how calm he was being despite his obvious rage. The Admiral knew there were answers he needed out of Himizu, and he was willing to leash in his tantrums until he had them.

"I suppose the Fire Lord felt the matter should be kept as confidential as possible." Or at least Himizu had. Kuzon kept his eyes trained forward, and it was apparent he could hear the message under his words. Though controlling the Navy had until this point proven to be Kuzon's strongest asset, Himizu didn't need to have the Admiral's permission to use his men.

All he needed was Nizan.

"What does he expect to get out of the woman?" They both strode with purpose, Kuzon a little faster than Himizu, as he was quite a bit younger and weighed down only by his red leather armor. Himizu, on the other hand, struggled with the heavy crimson ceremonial robes of his post, and once again, he cursed his decision not to wear the casual robes of a lower rank. But the next step would take intimidation, and all the regalia his office required.

"I think he only desires to use her as a tool. Nizan has a nasty habit of kidnapping people for bargaining pieces."

That seemed to take a little fire out of the Admiral's belly. As well it should. Himizu knew that it had been Kuzon's implications, in addition to the War General Royokan's plots, that had brought the Water Tribe prisoners into play. Now, though, Himizu was using the abduction ploy for his own gain.

Himizu stopped short at one of the dozens of ornate doors that lined the marble hallway, lit by both lamps and skylights. It was hard to tell why this one was so different, but that was the specific reason he chose it. The room was unique in its total commonality.

He politely opened the door for his companion, signaling for Kuzon to enter. Distrustful, the Admiral eyed Himizu, straightened the hem of his mantle in irritation, and strode into the room. Though he had no reason to doubt Himizu's intentions – the chamber was normal in every respect, furnished only with a low-set table placed in the center of its sunken floor. The four sourwood columns were too narrow to hide enemies, and the skylights high in the ceiling made sure there were no shadows to creep through. Nothing that could threaten Kuzon.

Himizu was very particular with his assassinations, anyway.

What _was_ different was a young woman seated at the table, her legs folded primly under her. And even though she was dressed in the elegant red robes of a Fire Nation noble, anyone could tell from her wide brown eyes and short stature that she was hardly a native. She looked up at their entrance, her expression warping into one of displeasure.

"Consul Yan-lin," Kuzon said in greeting, bowing almost in the entryway. Himizu slipped in around him, also giving a polite bow, but she didn't return the welcome to either. "I hope you've been treated well since your arrival."

"As well as can be expected for a political prisoner."

"Currently, your status is that of a guest," Himizu said as he removed his sandals and slipped further into the room. "And that's how we intend to treat you."

"I did not know, Master Himizu, Fire Nation hospitality included abducting guests and holding them against their will." She lifted her chin disdainfully, and he threw a glance back to Kuzon. Unfortunately, such a thing _was_ becoming a trend. But he plastered a smile across his face and took a seat on a pillow across the table from her, intent on making the situation as amiable as possible. Kuzon followed suit, though he hadn't done a very good job of hiding his anger, his glower blending into his short brown beard.

"Has my father been informed of my capture?" The moment of displeasure gone, she settled herself into the red cushion, smoothing the robes across her knees. Now it was business, and Himizu suddenly felt more comfortable dealing with her. Women in general were unpredictable and unreliable, but diplomats – particularly Earth Kingdom ones – were shrewd and practical. He was much happier to work with her consular role.

"Your father has been working very closely with us," Kuzon said slowly, and Himizu darted an annoyed glance at the Admiral. He knew little of what was going on, but now he was trying to manipulate the conversation to his advantage.

Yan-lin also seemed aware of this fact, her eyebrows climbing in visible disbelief. "My father has been working with you? Indeed."

"What Admiral Kuzon meant to say," Himizu began uneasily, frowning at him in admonishment, "is that your father has been working very closely with us in many matters, and he will be informed immediately of your presence here."

Kuzon was not happy about being corrected, but he was at least prudent, aware that he had quickly gone over his head without true knowledge of the situation. Thus he silently gave the interview over to Himizu, folding his hands in the large red sleeves of his uniform.

"Then to what do I owe this visit?" Yan-lin pushed an errant hair back into her bun, though it was in her face again a moment later. "An audience with the Fire Admiral or the Great Sage alone is rarely granted, but with both together is nearly unheard of."

"I think you're well aware," Himizu said, but didn't continue. She managed a smirk and a soft humph, though her tone was still professional.

"As you knew exactly where to find me, I assume it's because of my travel companions. What I don't understand is why I'm speaking to you and not the Fire Lord."

Himizu knew the question was supposed to annoy him – supposed to point out to him his paltry standing when compared to Nizan. What Yan-lin underestimated was his disinterest in being anything more than what he was.

"The Fire Lord has other concerns." This was a session for his questions, not for hers, and he reached for the blue porcelain pot among the tea set placed between them. "I see you haven't been served yet." Without even asking her, he poured her a cup.

"Then you know," Kuzon tried his hand again while Himizu poured, his color lightening as his temper calmed, "that we have no issue with you, Mistress Yan-lin. You had the mere misfortune to be associated with the Avatar. In fact, this could be a blessing. You've been removed from harm's way."

"Strange that the only time I was in harm's way was when you were trying to take me _out_ of it." Yan-lin took the tiny porcelain cup from Himizu, but she didn't drink, her eyes never leaving Kuzon. "However, you're right. We're playing around with formalities, trying to avoid the actual reason you kidnapped me two days outside of Gaipan." Now her gaze shifted to Himizu. "You want to know what the qu-dan said."

Himizu was both relieved and irritated. Cutting to the chase meant that he would spend less time cajoling her into revealing what he needed to know. It also meant, however, that being oblique in front of Kuzon would now be difficult, if not impossible.

Of course, he knew he would have to contend with this at some point. Though Himizu may have ordered Yan-lin's capture, Kuzon knew about it even before she had reached the bay. Such was the consequence of using naval ships to accomplish his goals. And to preserve transparency, he had 'invited' Kuzon along for the questioning, as Kuzon would have insisted on speaking with her, anyway. Now, he had to work around the Admiral without giving him too much information.

"The qu-dan is a myth," Himizu said coolly, feeling Kuzon's eyes on him, knowing that he wondered whether or not the qu-dan really was the purpose for the kidnapping. "A simple charlatan, nothing more. We have no interest in her."

Yan-lin was unconvinced. "Then what? You wish to lure the Avatar here using myself as bait?"

"And you believe that plan is flawed?"

Yan-lin made a sound deep in her throat, then turned her head to stare out the open shoji screens, toward a coral dusk that set the red tiled Palace on fire. "I was leaving the Avatar's company anyhow. I don't see how it's a plan at all."

A knock at the door startled her, and Himizu looked up to see a servant stick his head in. The man's skin was just about as white as his head-covering, his terrified expression indicating he wished he was elsewhere.

"Master Kuzon? I have a message for you."

Kuzon looked from the messenger to Himizu, who trained his face hard toward bored curiosity. But the Admiral seemed to know something was up, and his cheeks turned pink with aggravation. Obviously, he was fighting a mental battle – tell the servant to go away, have the message announced here in front of untrustworthy company, or take the message in the hall.

Deciding that it may just be too important to pass up, he pushed himself to a stand. "Mistress Yan-lin, if you'll excuse me." And he gave a stiff bow as well as a glare to each of them. Striding out, he closed the door with a sound click, and Himizu let his curious expression fade.

"Your doing?" Yan-lin asked with more than a little sarcasm. He grimaced, but then smiled.

"The Admiral has a lot of demands on his time. Let's enjoy our tea, shall we?"

"And perhaps you could explain to me why you lied about the qu-dan?" Finally, she sipped at her cup. "I had the impression Admiral Kuzon was uninformed of the subject."

"And that's how I imagine you would like to keep it, would you not?" Himizu also took a moment to try the black tea. It was light and a bit sweet, infused with jasmine. Refreshing, though his mind was elsewhere. "Your father has gone to great lengths to keep her location concealed. I thought you would like a little more discretion."

"So why do you want to know about the qu-dan?"

Feigning indifference, Himizu sipped his drink again before answering. "I imagine that if General Gi-Luon has put you to the task of taking the Avatar to the qu-dan, he thought she could provide some invaluable information." When she didn't respond, he pressed, "Did she?"

"And why do you think I would give you any information against my father's will?" Yan-lin said with an incredulous laugh, drawing away. "Surely the Fire Nation has more honor than that!"

In turn, he leaned forward, his voice hushed. "The Fire Nation honors its people before it honors individuals. You know how your father intends to use that information. Eventually, he'll give it to us, but not before he manipulates the situation to benefit him."

"And how would _you_ use the information, Your Eminence?" Yan-lin narrowed her eyes, and suddenly, she looked vicious, her political demeanor gone. "What do you intend to do?"

"How long were you with the Avatar, Yan-lin?" He straightened, making his tone casual. Best not to antagonize her any more than necessary. "Two weeks? Three? Perhaps you came to know Hikoshu in that time. Perhaps you came to understand how powerful he is." Her expression abruptly clouded over, and he realized that he had found a weakness to exploit.

"Perhaps you saw through to what he really is. A child, unfettered and ill-disciplined. Someone with enormous power but little understanding of how his power can do great harm to others." There wasn't much time; Kuzon would be back at any moment. "The Fire Nation has suffered at the hands of an Avatar with unrestricted power. As has the Earth Kingdom."

"You haven't answered my question." But he already knew he had her. She listened to every word with growing ire, hatred born out of a painful national history. Indeed, Omashu had just as much reason to dislike the Avatar as the Fire Nation. And he could use that inherent bias now.

"You know what my answer is. You know exactly what I intend to do with that information. You know it because _you_ want the same thing. A world where we don't have to live in constant fear of one man's anger. A world where _we_ determine the rules we live by."

"Where 'we' determine the rules? Or you, Your Eminence?" She now directed her wrath at him, her eyes flaring at the suspected deception. "Do you favor yourself to be our savior? The creator of a new world?"

Far from it, and the accusation made him smile grimly. "Whether or not I'm remembered a generation from now doesn't matter to me, and I have no interest in changing anything about the nations. With the Avatar gone, we will still be who we are now. No stronger, no weaker. But at least it will be _us_."

Yan-lin's anger seemed to cool at that, and her eyes sunk to the table. He knew she was considering his proposition, so very slowly. She could see the sense in his words; she understood how her knowledge would be used, whether by Himizu or by her father. And so her last protest was almost perfunctory, as if something inside her insisted she make one last attempt.

"There can't be peace without him. It will destroy the balance." Her eyes fell closed as she shook her head. "There must be an Avatar."

"And there will be. An Avatar who can't hurt us again."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Himizu quickly sat back, hiding his earnest expression. Yan-lin disguised hers more slowly, the angry, pensive look still on her face as she stared at her tea.

"My apologies," Kuzon said, entering only a few steps into the chamber. "The Fire Lord Nizan requires my presence. I will have to depart early." The frown he shot Himizu indicated he blamed the Sage for this.

"Something not too urgent?" Even if Kuzon suspected he was behind it, Himizu played innocent.

"His Lordship is commissioning a new ship as well as appointing a new captain. I had scheduled the event for next week, but His Lordship has demanded the launching be moved to the day after tomorrow." Yet another accusatory glare at Himizu.

"That's fine. We can continue this meeting with Mistress Yan-lin later. Please do not let us keep you."

Kuzon left reluctantly, apologizing once more to Yan-lin and vowing to speak with her another time. Yan-lin, distracted, merely nodded. Then they were alone again, and Himizu tried to think of how to pick up where he left off.

Yan-lin did that for him. "You still expect me to betray my father by helping you."

Himizu allowed himself a small, indulgent smile. "Your father stuck you in the middle of nowhere and expected you to take care of yourself. He then demanded – on more than one occasion, I'm sure – for you to help him in whatever political machinations he put into play. And finally, he asked you to follow the Avatar, even manipulate him, when all you probably wished to do was stay at home. So you ask me, do I expect you not to have your father's best interests in mind? I ask you, when has he ever had yours?"

It seemed a perfect note to leave on, and he gave her another, kinder smile as he pushed himself slowly to his feet. "Please forgive me, but evening rituals will begin soon and my duties await. Perhaps we should meet to discuss this again. Or, if you prefer, you're welcome to leave us whenever you'd like and return home."

"I'm no longer your prisoner?" she said bitterly. He gave her a polite bow as he started to leave.

"My dear girl, you never were."

"Wait," she called, just as he reached the door, and hidden from her view, Himizu whispered a quick prayer of thanks. But his knees were tired, and he didn't walk back into the room, instead turning to her curiously.

"I can't tell you what the qu-dan said." Yan-lin studied her palms with a sad purse to her lips. "That would be betraying my father, and I can't do that."

"I understand." He silently cursed his bad luck.

"But," she began again, glancing up at him, "I think I can tell you something else. And I think it's what you're looking for."

Himizu hesitated, then took a couple of steps toward her, trying hard not to sound too eager. "Please, continue."

"The qu-dan often doesn't give us the information we want, and more often gives information we don't want." Her voice had turned hard, practical. "I think this is the case for you. I think you'll be sorely disappointed in what you learn."

"I ask you to let me be the judge of that, Mistress Consul."

She looked away as she took a deep breath, then began to explain. But as she spoke, Himizu realized with relief that she was very much mistaken; it was exactly what he wanted.

Exactly.


	36. Homecoming

**Chapter 35 – Homecoming**

* * *

"Stop squirming!"

"Miyo, I can take care of my own hair." Hikoshu winced as she yanked hard to dislodge the comb. It called on all of his willpower to resist grabbing it from her.

"You've only ever known one hairstyle. It's like a banner just shouting your name." She pulled away long enough to eye him in reproach, then returned to tearing his hair out of his scalp in order to wrap it in a large knot on the top of his head.

"Your hairstyle's named after you?" At the other end of the saddle, Natquik looked up from his careful ministrations of Miyo's poorly-repaired glider, a half-blackened sail in one hand and a large chunk of burnt wood in the other. "You really are famous."

"I'm also bleeding." He had to admit, it was rather nice not to have his hair blowing into his face, for once. But he really wished it hadn't given him such a good view from Rosma's back of the distant skyline, uninterrupted by clouds or mountains. A moment later, Miyo blotted out the panorama, shifting from her position behind him to one directly in front of him. She pushed at his shoulders with bare arms, her shawl discarded in the saddle next to them, and squinted her eyes at his new image.

Engrossed in her examination, she prodded at his jaw and pulled at his ears. Then, content that he looked entirely unlike himself, she gave an approving nod. "It's not much, but maybe enough." Hikoshu really wasn't sure if it was. A stubbly goatee and a true top-knot wouldn't fool anyone. In reality, he had to count more on the fact that practically no one in the Fire Nation had seen him in four years.

Natquik seemed to agree. "He looks like a more fashionable Hikoshu, but he still looks like Hikoshu." The waterbender waved a blackened hand toward him. "You can't change the way he holds himself."

"I don't need to change everything about him. Just enough that he can sneak in and out, and fast." She grabbed her comb and moved toward Natquik. "You're going to be a little harder, I'm afraid."

"Is that a joke at my expense?" He wiped his grimy hand on his pants, the charcoal smudging against the sealskin, and rubbed at his cheek. Though the swelling had gone down, the area was still a blotchy purple and yellow, the fading remnants of his fight almost two weeks prior. Miyo pushed both his unworn parka and the glider out of the way, careful to avoid its charcoaled-colored sails, and crawled almost into his lap.

"Not a joke. Even if I could cover you up, you'd probably show off to some Fire Nation women and give yourself away."

"That sounds like jealousy." He then hissed as she pinched his chin sharply and forced his head one way, then another. "Could you at least let me shave myself?"

"She'd never spare you the humiliation," Hikoshu said, and chanced leaning across the saddle in order to retrieve the glider. While under Miyo's care, Natquik wasn't going to get much done on the sails, and so he took up a charred bone, letting it smolder in his hand before he began to color over the orange fabric. There was no way they could sneak into the Fire Nation from above if the glider stood out in the dark. This trick, however, was fast and impermanent; exactly how Miyo wanted it.

"There's really no hope for you," Miyo said somewhere beyond his focus, and he heard Natquik softly grunting. "I can fix everything about you, but your skin and build would still give you away immediately. What we need is a large, heavy cloak."

"I had one of those," Hikoshu said, glancing up. "But I left it burning in a library."

"Not very helpful," Miyo sighed, then wedged herself between Natquik and the saddle. He purposefully didn't make room for her, flashing Hikoshu a look of shared anguish. Finally, though, she managed to seat herself behind him, and jerked his head backwards with her comb.

"Ow! Alright, I agree! It's hopeless. Could you just leave me alone, then?"

Hikoshu rubbed at his nose, belatedly remembering the charcoal now all over his fingers. "It doesn't really matter how disguised we are. I don't think it'll make this plan any worse than it already is."

"Well, how do you suggest we go about finding out where they're holding the Water Tribesmen?" Miyo punctuated her sentence on Natquik's head, and with apparent patience, he let her. "Land and ask for directions?"

"Seems just a bit smarter than sneaking into a prison to ask for them."

"Honestly, Hikoshu, there is no better plan. We could spend _weeks_ trying to find them if we use too much stealth, and we don't have that time. Better if you and Natquik just get in there-"

"And what? Search jail cells until they figure out two random men are walking the halls?"

"Don't forget, you were the one who said this Mazo Prison, or whatever, is the only place that they could hold a foreign bender." She pulled the wood comb out and pointed it at Hikoshu. Natquik stared at it balefully, as if prepared to snap it in half. "Besides, you said you knew the bending tunnels."

"But guess what. So does every other firebender!"

"We're not arguing about this."

"Yes, please, Hikoshu, don't argue about it." Natquik glared at him, then flinched as she yanked on his head once more.

Hikoshu wasn't prepared to drop it, though. "I just don't see how a plan, lacking any foresight or real knowledge, is going to work."

Miyo stopped long enough to level a frown at him. "When have you ever needed foresight, or even a plan, before you charged headlong into something?" Then, returning to her occupation, "I seriously don't know where this newfound hesitation is coming from."

The truth of the matter, which he would admit to himself if not to her, was that this was the first time he really knew how much was riding on his chance of failure. After all, if he was captured, not only would he be letting down Chian, the Water Tribes, and Yan-lin, but he also risked the chance of being the one who broke the Cycle. Rather than Sidhari, _he_ would be remembered as the Avatar who failed the world.

It was a lot of responsibility, and slowly, he'd become less certain of his success in the last week.

"Alright," he said with vague frustration, "let's say this actually does work. Let's say we find them and rescue them from their dark and dingy jail cell. What then?"

"Disguise them and bring them to Rosma."

"Who'll be on the other side of the island with you."

This was the part that frustrated him the most. Reluctant to have Miyo in danger, he had insisted she take Rosma and wait for them somewhere safe, away from firebenders. But, of course, Miyo wasn't willing to just sit there idly. And after nearly a week of arguing over it, he had given in.

Still, she couldn't sneak into the prison with them – if they were hard to hide, she'd be impossible – so they then argued over what she _could_ do. The answer turned out to be very simple. Somewhere inside the Fire Temple, there was somebody on Hikoshu's side. Someone who had worked closely enough with Yojing in his final days to be entrusted with his last message, and someone who was loyal enough to wait two years to send it.

Hikoshu couldn't search the Temple; his biggest chance of being recognized was by a Fire Sage. But Miyo could. To anyone looking for Hikoshu, she'd be just an unimportant woman, alone on a bison. She could easily play the part of a touring nun and gain access to the Temple on the pretense of a brief visit. And while she was there, she could search for Hikoshu's unknown supporter.

It was a small chance; after all, Hikoshu had never spent much time at the Fire Temple, so his knowledge on his master's former haunts or the layout in general was shaky. But when he was younger, Hikoshu had been forced to pass hours in one particular study, pouring over scrolls to find the answer to Yojing's newest riddle. At times, the answer would be just a sentence, and at others, it would be a handwritten note by Yojing, tucked inside a roller. If there was any place left on the Dragon Island that would hold a clue to the mysterious confidant's identity, that study would be it.

If that study was still in the same condition as it was ten years ago. If Yojing had still used it in his last year spent in the capital. If he had written down that person's name, and if that person were still at the Fire Temple. Or still alive. So many 'if's that made the likelihood so very small.

But _if_ she could find the person, he might be able to help them find the hostages. And _if_ Hikoshu and Natquik were caught, Miyo was going to need some help rescuing all five of them. The risk she'd have to take for such an improbable outcome seemed worth it, in that case.

None of that made him any happier with the plan, though. To him, risking Miyo would never seem worth any later convenience.

Which was why her frown looked so bothered. "You told me you could get to the Fire Temple."

"I could, but that's not the point."

"If I'm still stuck playing the part of a naïve, Eastern Air Nun," she began, with a stiff yank on Natquik's head, "then you'll just have to take Rosma and go. I'll come up with a reason later for why my bison's missing."

"It's wonderful how she sacrifices herself even before we're at the Fire Nation," Natquik said, then gave a sharp yelp as she pulled too strongly. "Miyo! Please!"

"You know, you never see Rosma whine when I brush him." She shoved his leather tie into her mouth, twisting his hair up into a knot similar to Hikoshu's.

"I'm starting to think Rosma's a bit of a masochist for letting you."

"If you can't bring yourself to fly him," she ignored Natquik's joke, tugging on the topknot, "then you find a boat. It might take me days to leave without raising suspicion. But surely, between all of you, at least one can sail a boat."

"And go where? We'd never make it to the Air Temple."

"Hikoshu, what's with this last-moment insecurity?" Satisfied, she climbed over Natquik and planted herself in front of him again, twisting his face to study the bruise. "We've already been over this. You'll just go to your old fishing village and wait for me there."

"Are you talking to me or him?" Natquik asked, staring at her from the corner of his eye.

Hikoshu sighed. "Me, obviously. And I'm just worried that it's all going to go wrong."

"Of course, it is. No plan ever goes right, no matter how perfect it is." She rubbed her thumb under Natquik's eye, as if that would reshape it into something more Fire Nation-esque. "Speaking of which, you still haven't made a decision on what to do if Yan-lin's not with the Tribesmen."

"If she's not there…" Preparing for the inevitable fight, he turned his gaze back to the glider. "Then Natquik should take his family and leave without me. It's more important that they escape."

There was a long pause, as he'd expected, and studiously, he worked at the sails. But the next person to speak was Natquik, instead of Miyo.

"So, then, what's the contingency plan where _I_ get left behind?"

"No one's getting left behind." Miyo was chastising. "And Hikoshu's not going to do that just to save Yan-lin."

Hikoshu automatically bridled at her tone, throwing a frown up at the back of her head. "I'm already risking myself to save the Tribesmen. I don't see the difference between them and her."

"What I meant," she quickly retracted with a glance over her shoulder, "was that we'll worry about those things later. It's more important that we focus on what we have to do now_._"

"You mean the plan you've said is already doomed to fail?"

"Look, I know it doesn't have a lot of finesse." Miyo dropped Natquik's head in exasperation, twisting toward Hikoshu. "But face it, we're never going to save anyone unless we get in there and get our hands dirty."

"Hikoshu, she's right on this. It's the only way we'll get anything done." Natquik hardly resembled a Fire Islander, with his swarthy skin and thin stubble, and Hikoshu had to suppress a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get plenty done, looking like that."

Miyo gave him a glare, holding Natquik's shoulder with one hand. "I'm not _finished_ yet." Gasping, she looked back in surprise as Natquik lifted her naked arm, a finger curiously tracing her tattoo.

"Do those arrows go all the way to your back?" He earned a sharp slap on the offending hand.

By the time Miyo was finished with him, not an hour later, Natquik still didn't look like a Fire Nation citizen. But insisting that with the right clothes, he could be passable – "at least in the dark," she added – Miyo declared him to be a success and moved on to making herself look more Eastern Air Templish. This seemed to be an involved process, as she borrowed one of Natquik's knives and proceeded to cut her old shawl to pieces. For another two hours, she hid at one end of the saddle, using Natquik's sewing kit to put the shawl back together, while Hikoshu blackened the glider and the bored waterbender fidgeted with his waterskin.

When she was done, as far as Hikoshu could tell, she really didn't have a shawl at all. She'd cut it up enough that there wasn't any fabric in the front of it, the edges meeting at a point just below her high collar. And she'd also removed the fabric along her arms, leaving both limbs exposed from under the shawl. Finally, she had secured the whole thing to cloth bands around her wrists, rather than tucking it into her front sash, which created a look that was altogether alien to Hikoshu. Especially since he hadn't, in three years, seen Miyo wear anything so different.

"The Eastern Air Temple is a lot more humid, so less clothing is better," she explained as she plaited her hair with strips of extra cloth. "This really is a pale comparison, but it should fool most non-airbenders."

"I'm definitely fooled," Natquik said, re-rolling the excess twine. Hikoshu wasn't paying attention to either of them, though; he'd thought he'd seen the dots of islands on the horizon, and now he watched vigilantly for signs of the archipelago.

Eventually, emerging from the haze, the sharp peak of what could only be a volcano appeared in the distance. At first, he wasn't sure if it wasn't just a trick of the light from the setting sun, but as it grew more distinct, his heartbeat grew faster. They'd passed islands for most of the day, yet he knew that _this_ island had to be part of the Eight. They were getting closer to his old home.

With a glance around the saddle, he saw that, in the ensuing time, Natquik had fallen asleep and Miyo had returned to guiding Rosma. So there was no one to point it out to. Not that it mattered – this discovery was a personal one, anyway. Studying it carefully, he tried to determine the island by the shape of the mountain. It could be Camelephant Island. But the peak was too sharp, and this far West, it could be Dragon's Fang. Wasn't there a white-cap on the Fang, at this time of year? He wracked his memory, trying to recollect every facet of the Fire Nation's geography.

Another island became visible on the skyline, its mountain worn and half missing from a recent volcanic explosion. Even at that distance, he recognized it immediately as Danke Island – Eggshell Island. Named after the broken crater of the volcano. No one lived on it, except migrating birds and sealguanas. But it was familiar, and he loved it as if he had grown up there, himself.

As the afternoon wore on, the light faded, and soon dusk swallowed everything but the surf-break on rocks just off the various shores. Still, he searched the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of any other outlying islands. Perhaps if they were closer, he could make out the lights of towns. The moon, however, was absent, and any distinguishing feature was covered in darkness.

Close to midnight, Miyo finally crawled back over the saddle and kicked Natquik awake before seating herself.

"We're not far from the capital," she said, grabbing one of Hikoshu's packs – the one he hadn't used since the North Pole – and digging blindly through its contents. It took a frustrated frown from her before he obliged to light a small flame. "Do you know what to do?"

Natquik answered for him. "As we've been over it a dozen times?" He didn't seem eager to do it once more. Miyo pulled out a large crimson robe and tossed it to him, which he caught less than gracefully. In the firelight, Hikoshu recognized it as the outer robe of his old ceremonial garment, partly destroyed in the fight at the North Pole.

"He can't wear that. That's part of a Fire Sage uniform."

"He needs something to cover up with, Hikoshu, and I don't think the guards are going to test his firebending." Miyo didn't even look up as she fished out a darker-colored sash for Natquik. "If anything, they'll be wondering why he's wearing a torn up, oversized robe."

Natquik shrugged innocently as he donned the robe – which was, in fact, too large for him. But in the dim light, it was hard to tell by how much. Fortunately, though, its large size meant that it covered up most of his blue clothing and made him blend even better in the dark.

Tying the pack up, Miyo turned to Hikoshu. "Are you ready, or do you need more practice?"

"How much more practice could I possibly get up here?" He knew exactly what she was referring to. And the thought of it made fear clutch his heart. While they were still over land, he had worked on learning how to use her glider. In reality, he'd only practiced with it three times, and every occasion was from a height of no more than fifteen feet. Thus far, the end result had always been painful and embarrassing.

So the answer to her question was, no, he wasn't even nearly ready. He felt a knot clench up in his stomach every time he thought about the glider, and he'd gotten very good in the last few days at not thinking about it at all. Currently, the only way he would go through with it was if they tied him to the staff and shoved him out of the saddle.

But there was really no choice. He couldn't ride in on Rosma – a bison landing on the prison would be rather conspicuous.

"It's dark down there, but you can see the lights through some of the windows and around the walls. Just fly the glider toward it and try to hit the upper floor." Miyo was distracted as she crawled over to him and began smoothing his red-and-gray layman's attire over his chest. "Fewer guards will be patrolling that, as they don't expect anyone to sneak in through the roof."

"Miyo, I know this." It was then he realized how nervously she fiddled with the lapels of his outer-robe. Catching one of her wrists, he forced her to look up at him, and finally saw the anxiety that she'd managed to hide in the dark.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said in a half-whisper, and then threw her arms around his neck, wrapping him in a hug that nearly drove the breath out of him. She held him like that for several, very painful moments, and he held her back, letting his fire go. If nothing went right – and the odds were that nothing would – he wasn't likely to see her again.

Abruptly, a steep fall on a glider was no longer the scariest thing in the world.

Natquik's loud throat-clearing brought them both back, and Hikoshu relit his fire as she awkwardly released him. They sat like that a little bit longer, Hikoshu studying her face on the off-chance this was the last opportunity he'd have, Miyo picking at his robes.

"Hey," Natquik said into the uncomfortable silence, an injured, possibly jealous note to his voice. "I'll be plummeting to the earth with him, too, you know."

"Excuse me," she murmured, her fear replaced by playful amusement, and she crossed the saddle to Natquik's side. He actually seemed surprised that she'd responded, and even more shocked as she crawled into his lap to undo the sash around his waist.

"Miyo, wait, what are you do- ow!" She'd retied the sash, putting a little extra force into cinching it, and he winced as his mid-section was crushed.

"Firebender knots are symbolic and traditional. You can't use just some old Water Tribe knot."

"But now I can't breathe!"

She gave him a mock pitying look, cupping his cheek, then folded her arms around him as she had with Hikoshu. Natquik's hands appeared around her waist, but his face was obscured by her hair, hiding his expression. Hikoshu figured that it was probably a happy one.

They both stayed in that position for a little longer than a friendly-acquaintance hug should've lasted, and the sudden quiet left Hikoshu feeling very out of place.

"Do you want to hug the glider now?" he asked, and they broke apart immediately, Miyo shooting him an embarrassed, agitated look as she slipped back over the saddle. Natquik was more confused than anything, gazing after her before he turned a wry grin on Hikoshu.

"How do your ribs survive?"

"She's very affectionate," he agreed, reaching for the glider. "Now if only she could use that power against her enemies."

"Both of you get ready," she called from the front, her voice partly muffled. "The lights of the bay are coming up."

And the knot was in his stomach again, twisting his abdomen until there was no room left to breathe with. Paralyzing fear seized his legs, making them feel weak and useless, and he wondered if they'd have to roll him out of the saddle instead. The idea of that caused his head to swim.

Natquik, he realized, stood over him in the dark, reaching down to grasp his arm and haul him to his feet. Reluctantly, Hikoshu gave in, and the world swayed around him. Now confronted with it, he could barely register the scope of what he was about to do. Refusing to think about this plan had not helped to reduce his apprehension.

"You'll be alright?" Natquik was saying, and Hikoshu nodded feebly. The staff was slick in his hand, covered in sweat, and he almost asked to cancel the plan for fear of his hands slipping on the bamboo.

_There's no choice_, he repeated to himself. This had to be done. And he was an airbender! He could airbend himself to safety, if he needed to. And it would be dark, so he wouldn't be able to see the ground.

That, unsurprisingly, did nothing to relieve his terror, and it took him a moment to notice that Natquik was still talking.

"We can't do this if you aren't confident. I have no intention of dying tonight."

"I'll be fine." Even he knew he didn't sound fine. Natquik suddenly seemed just as anxious as he, and the waterbender hesitantly tied the safety line between them that would keep him from falling away from the glider. Hikoshu could tell he was wondering if it'd be better just to take his chances with falling, rather than being tethered to someone this untrustworthy.

"Hold on, I'm taking Rosma lower!" Miyo called, and they barely had time to grab the edge of the saddle before they descended. She took it slowly, though, Hikoshu's stomach churning not nearly so bad as usual. He knew she was doing it for him – trying to get him as close as possible without being seen and without causing him extra stress.

That was already too late.

As Rosma leveled off, Natquik and Hikoshu both stood again, Natquik's hand tight on his elbow. As if afraid he would faint and tumble off the bison.

"Hikoshu, go now," Miyo stuck her head over the edge of the saddle, her face filled with dread. Swallowing hard, he airbended the glider open, the snap of its blackened sails making him jump. Natquik reluctantly took his shoulders from behind, and Hikoshu grabbed the bamboo spines.

Then, squeezing his eyes closed, he took a deep breath. And another. And emptying his mind of _everything, _he airbended himself out of the saddle.


	37. The Prison

**Chapter 36 – The Prison**

* * *

The sensation of falling, the feel of weightlessness, overwhelmed Hikoshu at first, and his eyes remained firmly shut. Natquik was shouting something near his ear, but even if he could pay attention, he couldn't hear over the wind. Belatedly, he managed to hook his feet around the tail, and that gave him a little extra security. But it was easily engulfed in the awe-inspiring panic that had petrified every muscle in his body.

Natquik was still shouting – he caught the word "fly" – and with the swift realization that they were about to die, Hikoshu forced his eyes open. The roof of the prison was hurtling toward them, or they toward it, rapidly.

And somehow, the airbending he thought he couldn't master – the techniques that never came naturally to him – was at his fingertips. Everything he learned returned to him in a flash, almost as if his life in the last four years was sweeping before his eyes. Gasping, he forced the wind horizontal to the sails, then at an angle. The sails flattened at first, and then caught, and they were ripped upwards with a force that nearly dislodged them both from the glider.

They twisted in the air, soaring sideways as they grazed the wall of the large, round tower. Natquik was shouting in his ear again, though now it almost sounded triumphant. Hikoshu blocked him out in an attempt to cling to that instinct that had just saved their lives. The instinct that now pushed him to bend one direction or another. Somewhere in his stomach, the knot still writhed, but he purposefully ignored it.

He just needed to get into the tower.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a darkened window, large enough that they could fly in, and close enough that even with his rudimentary air-glider skills, he could probably reach it. Directing the wind upward, Hikoshu rode the current to it, anticipating how exactly he would have to fly through the window in order to get inside. He just didn't anticipate the speed they'd need, and as they entered the opening, too fast to land, they both hit the stone edge hard and tumbled into the room.

Natquik knocked the air out of Hikoshu by landing on him, and somewhere to their right, Miyo's glider skittered away. A moment later, they were both lying in darkness, the night silent except for his pounding heart. And as he drew ragged breaths, all Hikoshu felt strong enough to do was thank the spirits for letting him make it through that alive.

Soon, he realized Natquik was laughing. The waterbender had pushed himself up and was untying the rope around his waist, his face invisible. But Hikoshu could hear pure relief in his voice.

"That was amazing! And we survived it, too!"

The immediate threat now gone, Hikoshu fought back nausea. "Yeah. Just barely." He swallowed and forced himself off the ground, ignoring a twinge in his shoulder.

"So where are we now?" Natquik slowly came down from the rush of excitement, shrugging as he twisted to take in the room. For both their benefit, Hikoshu lit a small fire and held it up.

It wasn't a room at all, actually. It was a cell. His light caught the metal bars that surrounded them on all sides, even just above their heads. The only side that wasn't caged in was the window they flew through, which Hikoshu suddenly realized wasn't a window, either. There was no protective ledge, such that the entire wall was one large hole, from the stone floor to the bars of the ceiling. Nothing to block the occupants of the cell from the steep drop just outside.

But what was 'just outside' caught his attention, and without thinking, he stepped closer to that dizzying edge.

"This is home," he murmured, letting his flame die out, and gradually the dark world beyond came into view.

In the distance, the bay shimmered under an indistinct light, occasionally catching the glow of fishing boats and large ships. As his gaze traveled further inward, he saw a black field of trees which seemed to envelope the sprawling city under their canopies. Toward the center of the bay, forming a straight line from the water directly to the Fire Palace, was a thoroughfare that even at this time of night was flooded with light. It cast odd shadows along the Palace's immense walls, whose darkened towers dominated the horizon.

But they were not as large as the massive cinder cone volcano that loomed behind everything, its slope barely visible around the wall of the prison cell. He knew there were cities on the other side of the mountain, as well as the Fire Temple. All hidden under lush, green trees and split by silty rivers.

Four years since he'd last seen this landscape. Yet for just a moment, he felt seventeen again, watching it all fade away from the stern of a Fire Navy ship.

"You lived in a jail cell?" Natquik hadn't bothered to admire the scenery. Instead, he tugged on the metal bars as if to test their strength. "So what's the plan now?"

Shaken from his reverie, Hikoshu retreated from the edge, his head spinning at the black abyss just past his feet. "Plan?" Relighting his fire, he examined the bars and ceiling.

There were stars beyond their cell. In fact, there was no true 'ceiling' at all, the entire top floor of the prison open to the night. He saw, also, several other cells just like theirs, all placed intermittently along the circular wall. In the center of the floor, well beyond their reach, was the slat of a sunken door.

"You mean this place doesn't have a roof, and you still somehow got us caught in here?" Natquik brushed past him to return to the window. "Even when your airbending's amazing, it's still pretty lousy."

"Then next time, I'll let you fly us." Miyo's glider had been tossed through the bars. He could see it lying short of the door, its black sails showing smudges of orange. So they weren't going to be flying out, anyway.

Not that he really wanted to try again.

"If there's a next time." Natquik was leaning out of the hole, examining the stone which framed it. The wall surrounding the floor connected all the cages together, though each cell had a gaping hole in it, just like theirs. The wall also extended above the top bars, and Hikoshu imagined Natquik wanted to know if they could simply climb up, outside the window, and then over into the open floor.

But that wall looked too high and the stone looked too smooth. Besides, Hikoshu wasn't about to willingly step out of that window.

"What is this place?" Giving up, Natquik moved again to the front of the cell and searched for a lock in Hikoshu's light. "Why doesn't it have a roof? And why is the floor sloped?"

He realized then that Natquik was right; the floor was sloped, quite subtly, toward the missing wall. Now that he'd noticed it, though, the sensation of slowly slipping toward the void nagged at his mind. And suddenly, Hikoshu thought he knew exactly why they'd designed it that way.

"It's mental torture," he said, grasping one of the bars unconsciously. "It makes the prisoner over-vigilant – makes him think that if he stops paying attention, he'll fall out of the window."

Hikoshu didn't need a fire to see Natquik's disgusted look. "Then how do they sleep?"

"I suppose they don't." He also supposed the roof, or lack thereof, was to wear at the captives with the elements. In monsoon season, when the rain pelted down, it would be hard to hold onto the bars. Even harder to keep their feet on the slippery floor, sloped as it was. Horrible. "Doesn't look like anyone else is here, though."

"Savages," Natquik muttered darkly, then took a step back as he pulled the water skin from his bulky robe. "Watch out."

Hikoshu moved out of the way, and in the dim firelight, Natquik's water rippled under his fingers, its surface tensing as he drew his arm back. Then, sharply, he slashed at the lock with the side of his hand. There was a high-pitched screech.

Natquik resealed his water skin as the door slowly swung open on its hinges, the lock sliced in half. "For the sake of their captors, I hope my people aren't up here." His voice, for once, lacked all humor, and with a grim look, he strode toward the center of the room. A bit startled, Hikoshu followed.

He wanted to take Miyo's glider with them, but the bamboo spines had been snapped again, so badly that the airbending mechanism wouldn't even work. And carrying around an orange-spotted glider wasn't going to help them look any less conspicuous. So Hikoshu hid it in one of the cells, vowing to come back for it if he had the chance. He didn't think he would.

Under the – rather squeaky – metal-plated door was a stairwell, which they climbed down. There was no way they could be very stealthy while sneaking into the lower levels, but Hikoshu had Natquik follow him anyway, airbending at their feet to deaden the sound of their steps.

The stairs actually formed a wide spiral that likely would lead to the bottom level. The edge of his firelight caught a pipe running just above their heads, which Hikoshu supposed was designed to collect any excess rain run-off from the roof and channel it to the prison. When they came to a new floor, though, the pipe continued downward, plunging into darkness.

Breaking away from the stairs, they took the narrow door to their right. It led them into a squat hall that circled out of view to either direction, running parallel to the exterior of the round prison. In the wall across from them were four bronze-plated doors, the metal gleaming in the flame.

"Where are the cells?" Natquik asked, not bothering to lower his voice, and Hikoshu winced at the way it reverberated. Still, if there was anyone on the floor, they surely would have seen his fire by then. So he shrugged and approached the nearest door.

It was rather non-descript, only notable for its lack of a handle. What appeared to be a closed slot sat near eye level, and he used a finger to push it open. Beyond, the room was dark – invisible to him. With a frown, he stepped back and scanned the wall to either side of the door.

There. Two small holes in the stone, barely the size of a gold piece. Though they weren't very well hidden, they looked a lot like Fire-Locks. Holding his flame in one hand, he used the other to firebend into the topmost hole.

Light streamed out of the slot in the door, and he glanced inside to see the room now lit with lanterns somewhere out of view. Across from the door was a cell, closely resembling those on the top floor, save for solid stone instead of a drop-off as its back wall.

The cell was empty.

"The top hole lights the lanterns," he said, stepping back for Natquik to look, "the bottom one must open the door." While the waterbender examined the room, Hikoshu searched for more such locks. He didn't find any, excepting a rectangular hole just above the door. He didn't know what that was for.

When Natquik was satisfied the room was empty, Hikoshu stuck his fingers through the slot and bended the lanterns out. Which was, actually, an impressive firebending trick, with such little room to maneuver and the lanterns somewhere out of sight. But there was no one around to impress with it, and so he just slid the slot closed before they moved on to the next door.

They searched every other cell on the floor just like that – all sixteen of them. Given how long they worked on checking each door, Hikoshu was surprised that no guard stumbled on them. He supposed it could have been a turn of good fortune, but something in him whispered that it really wasn't. And as he let Natquik study the rooms, Hikoshu kept a wary eye on the hall to either side, at each moment expecting a surprise attack.

A bit of bad luck, though, was that all the cells were empty. Meaning they had to search a whole new floor, and with fading optimism, they took the stairs to the next level, which was identical to the one above.

However, this floor did have prisoners. Just not the ones they were looking for. The men inside those cells were unwashed and unkempt, blinking weary eyes as Hikoshu's lanterns woke them. Most of the men were asleep on the cold stone, their chests bare and their drab brown pants dirty. Many of them sat propped against the bars. And something in him felt pity for their condition. As this was a political prison, these men were probably not hardened criminals who'd committed atrocities. Probably.

But he didn't really know what they'd done. And saving them now might jeopardize Natquik's chances of finding his family. So Hikoshu quelled the whisperings of his conscience, and ignored the guilt that surged in him each time he saw another prisoner gaze at them between the bars.

Not right now, he told himself. As Yojing would've said, if he fought every battle, he could lose the war. And Hikoshu feared that whatever this 'war' was, it wasn't something he could afford to lose.

The third floor was where their luck ran out, just as their optimism was hitting its lowest. While Natquik checked, unenthusiastically, the thirty-sixth cell that night, Hikoshu heard a noise echoing from the stairwell, so faint that only his raw nerves had managed to catch it. He motioned for the waterbender to be quiet as he put out his flame, and they listened, with held breath, to the nearing sounds of distant footsteps.

Hikoshu had hoped the individual would continue up the stairs, but his heart sunk when the sound paused at their floor, and firelight glowed around the curve of the hallway. The person waited there for a long moment, his light wavering against the stone, and then the echo of the footsteps changed as he entered the hall.

Thinking quickly, Hikoshu tugged on Natquik's sleeve, urging him away from the firelight. They could just follow the circle around – hopefully steal by the guard while he searched one side.

"You got it?" a voice rang out along the corridor, and Hikoshu came to such an abrupt stop that Natquik smacked into him.

"Yeah, I'm checking," a second voice answered, just out of sight, as the faint glow of another fire snuck around the corner in front of them.

Which meant they couldn't slip past. And he wasn't ready to fight guards when they hadn't even found the tribesmen yet. With a glance behind them, Hikoshu signaled Natquik to the nearest door and firebended into the second lock.

The door clicked audibly. Though it was such a small sound, Hikoshu cringed as if it had shattered the air. Fortunately, the bronze-plated wood jerked open an inch or two, which he pushed wider to usher Natquik through. Once in the room, he used airbending to shut the door, this time quite loudly. Rattled, he shoved Natquik against the wall next to the entrance and hid beside him.

It took several moments for Hikoshu to realize that the lanterns in this room were already lit, and that they were not alone. Two figures watched them from the square cage across the room, their faces showing the same astonishment that his likely had. One was a man in his early thirties, kneeling behind the bars of the cell. His robes were wrinkled and his hat was missing, but he was quite obviously a Fire Sage, his clothing recognizable despite the grime. His loose black hair framed a gaunt face that stared at them with distinct dread. As if they had come there to hurt him.

In front of him, kneeling just _outside_ the cell, was a cloaked girl in her mid-teens. Her neck was bent so she could study them, her eyes catching the light such that they burned yellow. And in her hair flashed a gold flame tiara.

He knew that tiara. He knew that girl. But he didn't know if she knew him.

Next to them, the slot in the door slid open, the grating noise jarring Hikoshu. Past it, he heard the voice of the second guard. "Is everything alright in here?"

The girl's eyes jumped from them to the soldier, who was invisible behind the door. And Hikoshu regarded her with desperation, trying to silently communicate. Praying she wouldn't give them over to the guard and force him to fight.

"Yes, it's fine," she said after a moment. The surprise was now gone from her face, and her voice was smooth, unhesitant. "Could you give me just a little longer, Eishi? Please?"

"Just until the Gopher-Cat Hour. If I hold off the patrols beyond that, the men might start talking."

"Thank you," she said with a smile charming enough to disarm any man. The slot slid shut, and then they were all four left in silence.

But Hikoshu still waited for her to speak first. Beside him, he felt Natquik shift – probably to get better access to his water skin – and her eyes darted to him. Then, summoning all of the commanding presence that her father had ever had, Tala rose to her feet.

"I demand to know who you are and what you're doing here."

Hikoshu stuck an arm in front of Natquik, preventing him from whatever he was planning to do, and took a step forward. "Your Highness, I'm not sure-"

Even before he finished, her eyes went wide, and with a gasp, she dove at him, her cloak flying behind her. "Hikoshu!" A breath later, she'd flung her arms around him, her hug encompassing his shoulders.

The fact she was hugging him was almost as surprising as the fact she _could_ hug him. The last time Hikoshu had seen Tala, she was ten-years-old, about to leave for the Fire Academy. Yet here she was, tall enough to reach his shoulders, and where she'd been a scrawny kid in his memory, she was now on the brink of adulthood, almost a woman.

"Good spirits, look at you!" She drew back at arm's length to scan him with some shock, but her reaction only made him grin.

"Look at me? How about you?" Tala had changed a lot in six years. Though she'd always resembled her father a little, she now looked very much like her brother. She still had her father's prominent brow and thick eyebrows, but that thin nose and high-set cheeks were definitely from another bloodline. And her robes, which used to be short and made for movement, were now regal, draped elegantly from a red sash tied just below her breasts. The latter, of course, also being a new development in the last few years, obscured below a double-layered mantle.

All of it hidden under a cloak, which did nothing to diminish the aura of nobility Tala emanated.

"Don't mean to interrupt," Natquik said sharply, bringing him back from the brief, if happy, reminiscence, "but could we catch up later?"

That also jerked Tala back to the present, and her face filled with horror. "Hikoshu, you have to get out of here."

"Well, we're working on that."

"No, I mean it!" Her voice turned earnest as she seized his arm. "Someone in the Fire Nation wants to capture you."

"We're working on that, too," Natquik said from his shoulder, having wrestled out the waterbending skin. Tala's bright yellow eyes never left him, though.

"So you know about Yojing's murder?"

The words shot through him like lightning. "He _was_ murdered?"

"My father, too."

Since leaving the Air Temple, he'd suspected it, but this was the first time it'd been confirmed. And the sadness in her eyes closely mirrored the sadness that he knew was in his.

"I'm sorry, Tala."

"It doesn't matter now." She shook her head, as if to chase away the momentary rush of emotion. "But they were killed while trying to protect you. So you have to get out of here!"

Hikoshu didn't have the time, or the energy, to explain why he couldn't. "What do you know about the men trying to capture me?" he asked instead, gently pulling her hand from his arm.

Tala must have not been used to others ignoring her pleas; her mouth twisted into an insulted frown, but fortunately, she didn't protest. "The Great Sage Himizu wants to control the Avatar. He wants to keep you in the Fire Nation."

"His Eminence?" Hikoshu was stunned. Beyond stunned. Though he'd never known exactly _who_ was behind the plot, the possibility of it being the most venerable of all Fire Sages was so far from his suspicions – so far from anything that made sense…

A soft thump drew him from his daze, and he glanced past Tala's shoulder to the cage on the other side of the room. The bedraggled Fire Sage had dropped to the floor, his forehead pressed to the stone in reverence.

Which reminded him. "What are you doing here?" Hikoshu directed the question to Tala, though he pushed past her to approach the cage.

"This is the Fire Sage Yin Ke," she said just behind him. "He's being held prisoner for speaking out of turn against my brother."

"You can get up, Sage Yin Ke," he murmured as he touched the bars, and the man lifted his head just enough to stare at him, dull ochre eyes filled with the same despair he'd seen in the faces of other prisoners.

"He knew something about my father's murder, as well as my brother's implication in it," Tala continued as the Sage got to his feet. "Nizan had him arrested several weeks ago, and I've been visiting him ever since."

"Wait, Nizan?" Natquik said, surprised. "As in Fire Lord Nizan? That's your brother?" There was a momentary hesitation. "Hikoshu, why aren't we just taking her hostage?

Hikoshu spun at those threatening words, in time to see Tala shift into a defensive stance, one fist at her hip and another near her face. "I don't know you, but I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, gladly." And Natquik flipped the lid off his water skin with a thumb.

"Stop!" Hikoshu hissed loudly, holding up his hands as he stepped between them. "Natquik, we're not kidnapping anyone." As neither seemed interested in going through him, they slowly relaxed their guard. Though they continued to glare at each other past his head. "Tala, this is Natquik. His family's been taken captive by someone in the Fire Nation, and we need to find them."

"They don't hold peasants in this prison." Her father's infamous temper had surfaced, and she didn't remove her heated stare from Natquik as she spoke.

Natquik was unfazed. "If this 'prison' is how you treat the people you dignify, I can't imagine what happens to those you don't."

"He's Water Tribe," Hikoshu explained, nearly speaking over his friend. "The woman he's engaged to, and her uncle, were taken in a plan to-"

"-to teach you to waterbend." The response came from Yin Ke, and each head swiveled toward him. He was holding the bars now, his face pressed against them, hair falling across one eye. "There were rumors, but…no one knew for sure."

"Where are they, firebender?" Suddenly, Natquik was advancing on the cage, water writhing over his hands, and Hikoshu had to catch him by the arm to stop him. It didn't stop his glower, though.

Yin Ke took a step back. "I don't know! They were just rumors." Now he spoke to Hikoshu, his voice trembling with either anxiety or fatigue. "It was part of the isolationists' plan to control you. To keep you from being influenced by other nations. But the plan was so ridiculous…so unlikely…that we thought the rumors had to be untrue. Even if His Eminence were an isolationist, he would have never approved of the kidnapping of foreign royalty."

And yet, before this night, Hikoshu would have never suspected Himizu might be behind the murder of his former master.

"He's right." Tala still sounded angry. And now offended. "Even if Himizu would approve of something like that, Nizan wouldn't. It's an invitation to war."

Natquik's tone was scathing as he bended the water back into its skin. "Never stopped the Fire Nation before."

The quip was too much. Tala's temper again flared, and hot air blasted at them, forcing Hikoshu to once more hold up his hands.

"Stop it! Fighting's not helping anyone right now." Eventually, her anger subsided, but she still gritted her teeth. "Just tell me, are there any foreigners in this prison right now?"

"No. Not a one."

"She's lying," Natquik said flatly. Again, the temperature rose with her ire.

"How dare you-?"

"Enough!" Hikoshu's impatience got a little out of control, and flames burst from his fists, clenched at his sides. "Both of you! We don't have time for this!" Taking a breath to calm himself, he addressed Tala. "Are you _sure_ there isn't?"

She seemed even unhappier that he was now questioning her word. "Yes. I've been through this prison nearly every day for the last two weeks. I'm friends with the captain, half the staff – and I'm the Fire Princess. I think it would have been mentioned if there were waterbenders here."

"There can't be, anyway." Again, Yin Ke spoke up, though he'd withdrawn to the back of the cage as if to avoid the inevitable bending fight between Tala and Natquik. Now he gestured with a shaking hand to the right, toward one of two thin windows set high in the wall outside the cage. "It rained for days not too long ago. There were puddles all over this room." A visible shudder ran through his shoulders, his eyes falling closed at some unknown horror. "The stone's still weeping from it."

"A room like that wouldn't hold a waterbender," Hikoshu finished for him. Natquik still seemed distrustful, but he couldn't argue that logic, and Tala stared him down with haughty satisfaction.

"Is there anywhere else they might be?" Hikoshu pressed, though with little hope. Tala couldn't even believe there _were_ Water Tribe prisoners. And, just as he guessed, she was still dubious. "Anywhere. Some place that might hold an old man and a young girl about your age."

She opened her mouth to staunchly deny the possibility once more, but then she hesitated, a thought flitting past her eyes as her gaze unfocused. "Wait…there _is_ something." And her attention quickly latched onto Natquik as he came to a stand by Hikoshu, her eyes communicating a silent threat for him to stay right there. "The Ambassadors' Wing currently holds a girl my age. I don't know anything about her; just that she's a guest of Nizan."

"Could it be Sahani?" Hikoshu now looked to Natquik, whose eyebrows were drawn in concern and doubt. "Without her uncle?"

"Maybe." He didn't sound very sure. "Maybe, as a waterbender, he's been put somewhere else. Or maybe…" Natquik trailed off with a dark, furtive glance at Tala. But out of respect for Hikoshu, he said no more.

The frustration made him scrub at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "We don't have time to search both here and at the Palace, so we need to make a decision." They wouldn't finish exploring all the cells before morning, and even with Tala's help, they would still have to contend with the guards. But the Palace…if Tala were with them, the Palace guards would probably let them by. And the Ambassadors' Wing was so much smaller than the prison…

And maybe if it _was_ Sahani, she could tell them where her uncle was. It'd be so much simpler than searching blindly through all of Mazo Prison.

"Your Highness, I know it's a lot to ask," he said, dropping his hand away from his face, "but you're our only hope of getting into the Palace. Is there any chance you would help us?"

Tala's eyes jumped to the cage just behind him. "On one condition. You help me free Sage Yin Ke."

"Your Highness," Yin Ke protested, having approached the front of the cell once more, "please don't. If he found out, your brother-"

"-will have me to deal with." She swept past Hikoshu to stand before Yin Ke. "This is our only opportunity. If Hikoshu can melt these bars…"

Perhaps he could, but it'd probably destroy his hands or half the people in the room. Fortunately, Natquik read his mind and bended some water free. Without warning anyone first, he sliced through the padlock, just as he'd done earlier, and Tala jumped back from the squeaking grate. Surprised, her gaze swung toward him, but the look he returned was severe.

"If this is a mistake, firebender, I won't regret it alone."

There wasn't any time to waste. As Tala helped Yin Ke out of the cell, Hikoshu returned to the main door to search out a Fire Lock. The stone, though, was smooth, which left him fumbling at the grout.

"You can only open it from the outside," Tala said behind him, and he sighed. So much for simple. Instead, he pressed his hand against the bronze, intending to firebend their way out. "Wait!" It was Tala again. "You can't burn the door. There's a heat-sensitive lock outside, just above it. If the door catches on fire, it'll seal off the stairwell."

Exasperated, he glanced back to her. She stood just in front of Natquik, the hood of her cloak over her head, Yin Ke's arm wrapped around her neck. The Sage, in turn, looked weak, half of his weight resting on the smaller girl. How he was going to get four of them out of there without anyone seeing, he didn't know. And he wasn't even entirely sure if being quiet would save them any trouble at this point.

Fine. Hikoshu motioned them back as he stepped away from the door. Then, getting some force behind him, he airbended at it, his palms splayed toward the bronze. It held at first, so that a gale swirled around the room, beating at them. Both lanterns immediately went out, and they were cast into darkness.

After a moment, though, the door groaned, then creaked. Then, with a loud crack, the whole thing broke apart, slamming into the hallway. Hikoshu quickly lit a flame, which revealed the door, wood splintered and metal bent, lying on the floor.

"You might want to try harder next time," Natquik noted dryly, somewhere behind him. "Because I don't think the guards heard that."

Sparing him a brief, annoyed frown, Hikoshu crawled out into the corridor.

Of course, the guards _had_ heard it – or possibly even felt it – and as their small group moved quickly down the stairs, Hikoshu now supporting Yin Ke, agitated voices floated toward them from below.

Natquik elbowed past them before the guards' firelight appeared around the curve of the stairwell, his water skin out, and bended ice across the steps. While he did that, Hikoshu craned his head back to find Tala, keeping his voice low. "Your Highness, you have to hide."

"You need help-"

"If they see you with us, it's going to cause a lot more trouble. For everyone."

Tala looked upset, but at least she didn't argue. "Don't hurt Captain Eishi. He's a good man." Hikoshu had no idea how he'd identify the captain. He nodded, anyway, though, to get her out of there faster. And obediently, she slipped higher up the stairs, out of sight.

Just in time. Two guards had rounded the corner, the flames in their hands highlighting the heavy metal helmets that rested around their heads. They hesitated, then dashed up the stairs with shouts of "Prisoners!" and "Hurry!" In four steps, though, they hit the ice. And suddenly, they were tumbling out of view.

"Will they be alright?" Hikoshu asked as Natquik bended his water back.

"I just hope they took out some other guards on their way down." And then he was moving again. Hikoshu paused to call for Tala, who followed after them.

At the next landing, they found the two guards slumped against the wall and floor, both men groaning in obvious pain, one's helmet missing and his head bleeding. There was no time to help them, though, and the guards didn't try to stop the group. So they hurried by, leaving the men in their wake.

Unfortunately, the next pair of soldiers sprang on them too quickly for Natquik to use his ice trick again. Before the men could fire on them, though, Hikoshu just leveled them with air, and their bodies ricocheted off the wall before rolling away.

"How much further?" Hikoshu asked as Tala once more caught up to them.

"Three levels to the ground floor, and then out through the foyer." Well, that sounded easy enough.

But, of course, it wasn't nearly that easy. No guards assaulted them for the last three floors, instead making the intelligent decision to wait for them at the bottom. There was no other exit, so they would be forced to come out that way. Right into an ambush.

Before they reached the bottom, Hikoshu paused to pull Yin Ke from his shoulder. "Can you fight?"

Yin Ke was white, profusely sweating, and didn't look in any condition to firebend. But he nodded, anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

"Good. You need to protect Tala."

"I don't need a guardian, Hikoshu," she said from behind the Sage. He glanced up at her, ignoring her objection.

"Cover yourself with that cloak. I don't want them to see you."

She certainly wasn't used to someone so calmly brushing her off, but Hikoshu didn't have time for any other arguments. Instead, he looked to Natquik, who faced forward, his water forming a globe over his hand. "Count of three. I'll airbend a shield, you take out any guards that get around it. Alright?"

"I'm waiting for you." Natquik's face was hard with determination, still set in that severe frown that he'd worn for most of the night. So much unlike the Natquik he'd known for over a month. But, Hikoshu supposed, being in the nation of one's enemy left little room for humor. Especially when the people he loved were in danger. Roughly, though, he pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand, counting aloud to three. They then jumped out into the foyer.

He'd expected guards to surround him on both sides. What he didn't expect was a completely empty room. Just outside of the stairwell was a narrow corridor, which eventually opened onto a much wider space, lit with torches. Beyond that, Hikoshu could see a door. But still, no men. No one, from all appearances, ready to attack. And hesitantly, his instincts screaming that something was wrong, he took a step into the corridor.

Fire blinded him, so close that it may have singed his eyebrows, and he dropped below the bout of flame, twisting underneath it. But as he came up, another blast shot from his right, which he blocked with his arm.

The attacks were fast enough that it took him a moment to find their source. In the walls on either side were long slots like those in the prison doors, but these were open, spurts of flames issuing from them. The guards had hidden behind the barriers to protect themselves, leaving the four exposed.

"Get back!" he shouted, but it was too late; they'd already followed him into the gauntlet of fire. Dodging another blast, he jammed his hand against one slot and airbended through the hole. On the other side, something thumped loudly, and the fire stopped.

Natquik had sealed off one slot with ice, which resulted in a scream from behind the wall, and now he was shooting darts of ice through the other holes. Yin Ke and Tala, though, were invisible, hidden in heat and fire. At that moment, another blast caught Hikoshu by the shoulder, and he abandoned his attempt to find them, instead focusing on the immediate threat. Pivoting on his heel, he drew the fire into a sphere of wind, then hurled it out toward the foyer, away from their party.

"Hurry, get to the door!" He broke apart a blast, and blocked a second. But there were simply too many attacks, each bout of flame quickly replaced by another one before he'd even stopped the first. "Walk below the-"

In his distraction, one nearly caught him in the face. But it was intercepted, quite skillfully, by Tala's tiny form, her cloak obscuring her features as her thin wrists took the brunt of the attack. Startled, Hikoshu stepped back, only to encounter more flame, and silently, he decided to thank her when the timing was more appropriate.

Natquik was the first to make it to the other side, though he was pretty much defenseless, his water having evaporated in the fight. Instead, he was bent over, Yin Ke under his arm, as he used his surprising agility to avoid most of the flames. Without waiting for Hikoshu, he dropped Yin Ke and darted across the room, toward the entrance.

Hikoshu's attention, however, was still on the firebenders, as well as Tala, who lingered behind in an attempt to help. Brushing off the scorching heat of a well-placed blow, he spun about and threw her out into the foyer with an air blast.

She yelped as she flew forward, but he was already behind her, forcing her to keep running out of the corridor and into the larger section of the room. From the walls, he heard men shouting, and knew that they'd emerged from their protective barrier to follow.

He saw now why Natquik had gone ahead. Behind the open door was another narrow passageway, partly blocked by a groaning portcullis. It hung mid-air, shaking, as a column of ice held it aloft. Natquik was on the other side with Yin Ke, both looking a bit scorched but still alive.

The moment that Tala and Hikoshu slipped under that grate, Natquik bended the ice away, letting the portcullis fall into place with a loud clang. The guards, their bodies merely silhouettes against the red light of the room, smashed into the bars, which dragged cries of frustration from them. But before they could find the raising mechanism to open the door, Natquik flushed water over the entrance, sealing the entire thing in ice.

Panting, Hikoshu took a moment to collect his bearings. It was then he realized that the prison was surrounded by a shallow moat, which was the source of Natquik's water. Across the bridge, the outer wall of the prison loomed before them, and from a tiny corridor in its base, two men came running.

He had to suppress a weary groan. "Natquik…"

"On it." Just as the two new assailants approached, Natquik drew up an arc of water, the cloudy, black liquid twisting wide around him. If, perhaps, they had suspected a waterbender, they could have destroyed the attack. But these men were caught by surprise, and as Natquik slammed it into the ground, it shot back up in a wave to engulf their waists. Immediately it froze, holding them in place.

When the group had crossed the prison yard and escaped the still-open gate, Natquik turned back to bend the men loose. Calling the water to him, he also sealed the second gate in ice, and then breathlessly faced Hikoshu. "Not going to hold firebenders for very long."

"If they didn't recognize Princess Tala, they may not have any clue where we're going." Knowing their luck, the guards probably had. "We need to hurry."

Tala was holding Yin Ke by the arm, who looked to have taken the flight harder than the rest of them. He held his side, his face waxy in Hikoshu's flame. "I can't go with you. I'm only going to slow you down."

"Sage Yin Ke," Tala began, but he shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"Your Highness, you rescued me. And I'll always be in your debt. But I can't put you at any more risk." Gently, he pulled himself from her grip to stand on his own. "I'll go to the Fire Temple. Perhaps, there, my fellow Sages might offer me sanctuary."

Hikoshu had to wonder why they hadn't offered him any in the first place, when by all rights, Nizan should've never even arrested a Fire Sage. Still, a lot of things in the last two months had surprised him about his own home country. A Fire Sage in a political prison seemed the least surprising of them all.

Tala, though, was as unsatisfied with this arrangement as she had been with everything else that evening. "Here, take this." And she pulled from her hair the flame tiara, offering it, along with its gold pin, to him.

"Your Highness-"

"Use it to persuade others to help you, or use it to buy a boat – I don't care. But please use it." She pressed it into his hands when he refused to take it from her, her voice earnest. "You stood up for my father's memory, Honorable Sage. And my father's spirit now insists that I honor you."

They shared a moment, older Sage and young girl exchanging silent emotions that Hikoshu only barely comprehended. But those firebenders would get through that door soon, and they didn't have time for 'moments.' So when Yin Ke finally nodded, he couldn't suppress a sigh of relief.

"Of course, Your Highness. Thank you."

Tala smiled sadly. "Be careful, Yin Ke."

"You, too, Your Highness." Then he was gone, swallowed by the jungle.

It took two attempts to get Tala's attention, so engrossed was she in watching Yin Ke's retreat. Finally, though, she shook herself out of her dark thoughts, and looked to Hikoshu with a frown.

"You have to get us to the Palace. Now."

"Of course." With a final glance at the spot where Yin Ke had disappeared, she turned to a large, cleared path and directed them to follow.

"I hope Sahani isn't in that prison," Natquik murmured, sparing one last, sad look to the walled structure.

"I hope so, too." Because if she was, then it would be all his fault for putting their faith in Tala.

Hikoshu truly hoped the princess would not let them down.

* * *

**A/N: **The concept of the prison - ie, the top floor - was probably borrowed from George R.R. Martin's _A Song of Ice and Fire _series. I haven't read the book in five years or so, but I'm 80-percent sure that's what 'inspired' me, so to speak. Since I can't remember the scene very well, I also don't know how similar it is. Just that it involved sloped floors and an open wall in a prison cell (I think his also involved honey-combs? ...maybe?). However, I can certainly guarantee his was better written and better described.

I also recommend anyone reading this to read that. If you like Medieval fantasy, then you'll love his books. Heck, you'd probably love them even if you hate Medieval fantasy. But the books are rather adult in nature, so some may not like it for that. Anyway, credit where credit's due - the idea was awesome and I wish I could claim I invented it myself. If only I were so creative...


	38. The Letters

**Chapter 37 – The Letters**

* * *

Rosma grumbled plaintively, and Miyo stroked his arrow in reassurance.

"Just a little more, Rosma. We're almost there."

The old bison didn't seem to believe her, rocking gently under her legs. She couldn't blame him; he sensed that he wouldn't get a chance to sleep tonight, resulting in a grouchy mood that was almost as bad Chian's when she didn't sleep. But he also seemed to realize how important this was, which kept him flying when he really just wanted to land.

She wished she could give him that, but she forced him to circle the prison twice, anyway. Just on the chance that something had gone wrong with Hikoshu. Fortunately, from what she could tell, he'd made it into a window, and her hovering so low in the sky was bound to attract attention. So finally, she pulled on his reins, urging Rosma up and away from the silent tower. Hikoshu had his part to play, and she had hers.

The Fire Temple – or what they called the Fire Temple, though its official name was Anh Den – was on the other side of the volcano, close to the Fire Palace. So close, in fact, that despite the dense forest that separated the two structures, they were highly connected, both by hidden roads and underground tunnels. It was the design of the Great Sage Sota, who would go on to become the first Fire Lord. Who would create the Fire Nation as they knew it, bringing the country into an era of prosperity.

Miyo had been there once before, though so long ago that she only remembered it as a blur. It was odd to her, to think that the last time she had seen the Temple, Hikoshu had just discovered he was the Avatar. That, separated only by a few islands, neither knew how their futures would be entwined.

The Temple jutted from the forest far below, the eight points of the red-tiled pagoda lit with fires that'd burned longer than recorded memory. Like spokes on a wheel, five white-walled halls branched off the pagoda, forming a shape much like a rising sun. That was perhaps the intent of the original builders, but the Temple had been drastically modified since then. Now, three of those halls branched off even further, creating behind the Temple Proper a maze of halls and dormitories whose architecture shifted with every successive addition. And even in the dark, Miyo could see the highly-cultivated gardens between each of those branches, their shining ponds at odds with the wilderness that lurked just beyond the walls.

That wilderness was where she was headed.

As if by rote, Rosma descended, drawn toward the location that had been set aside as a bison point for half a millennium. It was hidden in the trees, lost to Miyo's eyesight from such a height, but Rosma headed directly for it. And within moments, they were landing, the overgrown forest catching and slapping against his thick fur.

There was no one to greet them, as no one expected an airbender to show up during the dead of night. They'd probably already been made aware of her arrival, though, so she worked quickly. Hefting the four packs, as well as Natquik's coat, from the saddle, she slid down the bison's back and landed lightly on the dark basalt platform, carved out of the ground itself.

Though she could barely see them, Miyo knew that there were two paths cut into the woods; one large enough to accommodate a bison and leading to the stables, another just small enough for a person to travel to the Temple Proper. Careful to hide the coat and three of the packs in the woods next to the point, she then returned to give Rosma a comforting rub and a quiet promise that there would be someone out soon to take him to shelter. The bison gave a lurching groan, the ground shaking as one of his six paws lifted to knock her over.

Miyo jerked back to avoid the paw, but her hands remained on his nose while she made shushing noises. He was worried about her, perhaps sensing something beyond her notice. But there was nothing else she could do, so she ignored his scared brown eyes and his rumbling complaints. As well as the odd, itching feeling behind her own heart. Shouldering her pack, she jumped off the platform and began the short trek to the Temple.

Soon, the pagoda emerged from the woods, its white-washed walls and crimson tiles aglow from the eight fire pots that lit each corner. It stretched high above the forest, an awe-inspiring tower against the night sky, and as she passed through the moon gate that marked its boundary, she headed for the pagoda's wide terrace.

It was enough to make someone feel very small, but she was used to such ostentation. Up the stairs of the terrace, she climbed, then strode across the courtyard and toward the prodigious doors that even now were opening.

"Sister Nun," the short-sleeved Sage said with a bow, his tall, conical hat precariously close to falling. She paused before the entrance which he occupied, returning the bow with a smile.

"My bison is at the point."

"Of course. We've already sent a Sage to tend to him." Then, stepping aside, he ushered her in politely, half of his face red as if he'd been lying on it. Possibly asleep. "We weren't aware you would be arriving, I'm afraid, so we've been caught a bit off-guard."

"That was my doing, and I apologize profusely, Master Sage." The entrance hall was even redder than the roof-tiles, if that was possible. The five halls branched off the opposite walls, and red colonnades covered in gold metalwork stood in every corner. In the center was a black-stone statue of the Great Sage Sota, one hand holding a flame and the other a sword. In the dismal light of the oil lamps, his expression was hard and unforgiving.

"I just finished a tour of the South Pole, and parchment is severely lacking in these late months," she said, again smiling apologetically. He didn't seem interested in her excuses; he was just a lowly Sage, after all, forced awake to perform another's duties. What did he care how legitimate her reasoning was?

"We're preparing you a room in the Koi Hall, where we usually put Air Nuns." He eyed her garments as he directed her down one corridor, his thin mustache curling with his frown. "Is this your ordination journey?"

"Yes." Air Nomads, upon ordination, would often request to take a tour of the Four Nations before assuming full monk or nunhood, to test their strength and faith, as well as recognize their need to be unattached to a single land. Miyo, unfortunately, had never had one, as she'd chosen to stay near Hikoshu. "And as I wish to leave for the other islands of the Fire Nation in the morning, I hope you'd forgive some curious sight-seeing in your Temple tonight."

Following behind her, the Sage seemed very much like he wouldn't forgive it at all. The idea of spending hours of quality rest-time – time he very likely didn't get much of during the day – guiding a nun around the Temple must've been unappealing. "Actually…"

"I wouldn't suggest you stay up with me." Miyo stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked into her, and she feigned a look of sudden horror. "You don't have to, do you?"

"We usually don't let guests walk the halls unchaperoned." He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, and she realized he seemed younger than she. Not by much in age, but certainly in confidence. She could tell that he was dearly wishing someone else had been assigned this task.

"Oh, no, that won't do." She pressed her fingers to her lips in thought. "I can't expect you to spend all night with me, when you'd rather be sleeping." He looked grateful but still had the sense to shrug noncommittally. Perhaps he should have protested, if he wanted to be a gracious host. However, he seemed just a little too tired to care, and Miyo was glad.

"Master Sage, I do understand your policies, but to be honest, there's little that an Air Nun would do that would disturb anyone, correct?" He didn't know, so he shrugged again. "Well, I assure you, I can't be a bother to anyone. And no one is awake right now to know I'm even here, so I see no reason you need to follow me around when I can simply entertain myself for an hour or two."

He knew better, and the doubt in his eyes said as much. But he was also young, uncertain, and tired. The downside of being an underling was that one had to do the jobs that no one else would do. The other downside was that one didn't know how to do them _right_. So with a hesitant nod that grew even firmer the more he talked himself into it, the nameless Sage urged her forward.

"I'll show you your quarters, Mistress Nun, and leave you to your whim. Please try to stay in the shrines of the Southern halls and away from the Sages' quarters in the Northwest Wing."

She forced her grin into a mere smile. "Thank you, Master Sage. I certainly will."

It took another half-hour before he had led her to her quarters and seen her settled. She could tell that he was practically beside himself trying to take his leave, and though she also wanted to get started, she delayed for as long as possible. His hurry didn't seem suspicious – her hurry would. So she plied him with questions that only an unfamiliar airbender would ask. What time were morning prayers? What time was breakfast? When would be the best time to approach the Head Sage of the Temple? Where were the stables? All questions that she knew the answer to, just from experience, but her part as a naïve Eastern Air Nun wouldn't.

After painstakingly answering each question to her apparent satisfaction, the poor Sage – who finally gave his name as Yu Ping – departed with one last warning about the Sages' quarters.

Busying herself with her pack, Miyo waited until she felt he had cleared out of the Koi Hall. The room was sparse, as befitted an Air Nomad; nothing more than a wardrobe that no nun would ever use, a short table, and a bed. The bed itself was a lumpy thing, about the height of her knees, and apparently stuffed with bamboo shavings. The sandalwood table held one, lone porcelain pitcher.

Good enough for a nun, she thought idly, her attention on her pack. Emptying most of its contents on the bed, she pulled out the items that she couldn't leave behind – meditation beads, a shell fan, and Natquik's flint. The fan and flint, she tucked securely under her sash, and the beads, she placed around her neck, hiding them under her robe. The Air Nomads taught detachment, and so there was little in her bag that she wanted to keep. But some of those items were hard to replace. Best to hold onto them if she could.

Quietly, she slid open the rice-paper doors that let out onto a Temple garden. They squeaked loudly from humidity and disuse, and she winced at the noise. There probably weren't any other Nuns at the Temple, nor would they be up at this hour. But it was best not to take chances, and she airbended to keep her footsteps silent as she slipped into the garden.

Hikoshu's memory of his former master's study was sketchy; he could only remember a general direction, as well as the vague appearance of the hall outside its door. More than that, though, he remembered details of the architecture beyond the study's garden doors, as he'd apparently spent most of his time staring out of them. Something which, she'd noted dryly, sounded just like Hikoshu.

But it meant that she'd be more likely to find the study by its exterior. Staying outside also meant less of a chance of running into someone who was a little more certain of the Temple's rules than Yu Ping had been.

The garden was dark, boxed in on all sides by the Koi Hall and therefore protected from the light of the ceremonial fire pots. In the center grew a gingko tree, its branches spreading over a small pond decorated with volcanic rock. Designed to resemble one of the outlying Fire Islands. As she'd expected, it wasn't the garden she was looking for, and so Miyo turned to the roof instead.

The eaves of the Temple were severe, swooping into sharp points at each corner. Though it was hard to tell in the dark, she thought they were decorated with gold. The periodic brackets were designed to look like koi, giving the Hall its name. And it was also another clue that this wasn't the hall she wanted.

With a little airbending, Miyo easily jumped onto that roof. The tiles were slick with the first traces of dew, though, which almost made her slip. With a gasp, she fell forward, digging her fingers under the edges of the tiles to catch herself. It took a moment to find her balance, and for once, she cursed her wood-soled shoes.

Finally, she straightened and crawled the remaining distance to the prominent spine of the roof. From there, Miyo was afforded a view of each branch, anonymous in the night except where the fire pots caught it just right. There were dozens, and she realized that it might take longer than she'd expected to find the correct one.

Hikoshu had said the eaves had brackets shaped like lemurs. Or, rather, tamarin-shrews, but as she had no idea what those were, lemurs would be easier to spot. That was, if there had there been a moon. Now, she airbended herself along the curving roofs blindly, only sure with each jump that her feet would land on _something_. If they didn't, though, she would have to think fast.

But she simply didn't have time for a mistake.

She flew from rooftop to rooftop, often over stands of trees or garden ponds, which she'd pause occasionally to examine. There were so many different types – some were rock gardens, some were only sand. Others created geometric designs, and even more imitated nature. But there was one particular garden she looked for, and she finally found it in the shadow of a fire pot.

A small knoll, surrounded by three trees, leafy and barren of flowers. Cherry trees.

As if to reaffirm Hikoshu's memory, the brackets were shaped like lemur-ish creatures, and airbending herself off the roof, Miyo landed softly in the grass of the yard. There were a half-dozen doors underneath the eaves, their rice-paper frames dark and empty for the night. But she looked for the one that faced the knotted tree.

Of course, Hikoshu's memory couldn't hold out completely; there were two knotted trees. Disappointed, she glanced between the only two doors from which the trees could be seen. Perhaps she could search both, but since she didn't know what she was looking for, that didn't seem very efficient.

As she examined one of the trees, though, a thought struck her. If he could remember the bracket, then it had to be visible from the door. Fortunately, there was only one door that had such a view – the westernmost one – and with some relief, she pulled it open.

It didn't budge.

Frowning, she tugged harder, but the door wouldn't slide, latched securely on the inside. It was a small setback, but something that frustrated her nonetheless. What could she possibly use to open the door? A branch? Surely, blasting the door down would be too loud.

Maybe, though, she could just blow out the rice paper and free the latch from the outside. Paper couldn't possibly make a lot of noise, and the damage would be minimal…

Drawing her fan out of her belt, she flipped it open, the opalescent shell glowing even with so little light. After she took a moment to aim the fan near the grooved edge that served as the door's handle, Miyo swung her arm back and then forward.

And with a very audible crack that echoed throughout the courtyard, the grooved edge snapped neatly in half, the neighboring rice-paper squares blown out by the wayward gust. Wincing, she folded the fan back in her sash and stuck her thin hand through one of those squares. Too much force. She'd forgotten how much fans enhanced airbending.

A moment later, Miyo had the door open, sliding it shut behind her as she snuck into the room. The interior was black, the lanterns extinguished, and so she found a wall to guide herself by, her fingers running along the rough, volcanic-stone surface as she searched out a lamp bracket. Luckily, the room was small, and she eventually found one on the wall opposite the shoji doors, the lamp resting at the height of her head. Fumbling at her sash, she fished out Natquik's flint and tried to strike a spark at such an odd angle.

She needed seven tries to get the wick to light, her work hindered by her inability to see. But when it finally caught, the room was immediately cast in a dim, red glow, the oil emitting an old, almost rancid smell. And as she turned to survey the room, her heart quickly sank.

The room was empty.

There were furniture – a short, narrow table set in the middle of the marble floor, and she could almost envision a young Hikoshu sitting behind it, his gaze drawn unconsciously to the spring day just outside the door. And to the right of the table were wooden shelves that stretched all the way to the high ceiling, which she imagined had been stuffed with scrolls that the Fire Sage Yojing had collected.

But they were empty now, the table and shelves covered in a thin layer of dust. As if nothing had been there for a very long time.

Giving a tired groan, she fell to the floor, her robe floating up around her legs. Well, wonderful. There was nothing in the room to discover, everything probably cleaned out after Yojing's death. So what else was she to do?

Quietly, she chastised herself for behaving so childishly. After all, they knew it'd be a small chance. And she wasn't so naïve as to believe that her part in this plan was of utmost importance. If anything, it was just to give her something to do.

Frustration welled in her as she dropped her hands in her lap. How hard she'd fought to justify her presence on this trip, only to have it culminate in this. She struggled to fight back the wave of bitterness and self-pity, and even as part of her argued against such pointless emotions, another part argued that 'pointless' was about the only way to describe her, anyway.

So intent was she on berating herself, she didn't even notice the symbol until she'd looked over it twice. But the second time, the strange marking finally caught her attention.

It was a third of the Air Nomad sigil, burned into the base board of the wooden shelf; just one spiral, so small that it had only caught her eye _because_ it was an Air Nomad symbol. But that shouldn't have been unusual. After all, the Air Nomads weren't the only ones to use spirals in designs.

Still, there was something unusual about its center. She could see a hole, tiny enough that it could be a trick of the light. Frowning, Miyo crawled forward on her hands and knees, her eyes trained on that very familiar spot, which looked exactly like an Air Lock.

Much to her surprise, it _was_ a hole, about the size of the breadth of her little finger. The spiral was surrounded on both sides by sunburst woodwork, such that it didn't stand out while she was on her feet. But here, at the level of the short table next to her, the difference was quite apparent.

Without any hope that something would happen, Miyo pointed her finger at the hole and airbended into it. Yet, suddenly, the spiral popped outward, and she gave a start. It was a thin drawer, built into the base of the shelf. Hidden behind a rudimentary airbending mechanism, that was triggered by air pressure. Confused, she pulled the drawer out of the shelf completely.

Who in the Fire Nation would use an Air Lock? It was simplistic enough that anyone could have built it, but without an airbender, the only way to have opened it was to pry the wood out. How could that have been very useful to any Fire Sage?

Curiously, she propped the drawer in her lap and brushed a plait of hair back behind her shoulder. There were scrolls inside – no. There were scraps of scrolls. With care, she removed the old parchment, its paper crinkling under her fingers, and lifted the topmost letter into the light.

_Yun Zhen, Year of the Elephant-Rat, Fifth Month_, it read in clerical shorthand, the characters crisp and carefully drawn. Forty-seven years ago, she realized. Near the start of the war. _Trouble stirs in the Southern Sea. Water Tribe looks to build a fleet, though they've assured Kapil that will not interfere with trade. Omashu presses the country to show force._

Miyo quickly scanned the rest of the letter, though it didn't look particularly noteworthy. From all appearances, the Southern Water Tribe had wanted to build some ships, which Omashu believed would monopolize trade. Lacking a naval force itself, Omashu then pressured the Fire Nation to do something about it instead. Just trade matters and nothing more.

The bottom of the letter, possibly a diary entry, was signed "Black Bramble." A play on words, the sounds of the characters forming the same sounds as Yojing's name. Meaning he was likely the author of the notes in this box, and she set that entry aside to scan the next one.

This passage was dated a year later, and written just as tersely as the first. But the characters looked rougher, as if Yojing had written it quickly and with some anxiety. _Prince Zenshi has kidnapped Water Tribe Princess Yukona. Kapil made the news public, after two failed negotiations with Northern Water Tribe. Sidhari has been contacted_.

And the next one, only two months later. _Sidhari refuses to mediate. Kapil has urged Zenshi to return Yukona, but I fear it might be too late. Omashu insists that the Southern Water Tribe has built a fleet in the Southern Sea and intends to attack._

The messages were actually scraps of larger scrolls. Some had words from other entries scrawled either above or below, but these passages were the only ones undamaged. As if Yojing had wanted someone to read them specifically.

_Guo Ping, Year of the Tiger Seal, Second Month_. _Water Tribe has declared war_. There was more in the entry, but Yojing had by now slipped into cursive script, most of the words illegible.

Three months later – _Merchant ship attacked in Rajio Bay. Omashu states it is by Southern Water Tribe naval fleet. Kapil has ordered counter-attack._

It was an overview of the entire war, written in short-hand. But the further she read, the more emotional the entries grew, and the more disorganized the characters became.

_Guo Ping, Year of the Tiger Seal, Tenth Month. Zenshi has finally been exiled for his refusal to return the Princess Yukona. He hides now in the Western Air Temple, which remains neutral, and Kapil has declared a truce with the Northern Water Tribe for the duration of the year._

_Sidhari still refuses to mediate. She resides in Ba Sing Se, and I suspect she will not emerge until Xiaojin is dead._

_Southern Water Tribe and our nation have suffered heavy losses. News comes to us as rumors. It is possible they did not have a fleet as originally thought. May the spirits guard the innocent, and may they forgive the guilty._

Yet of all the small excerpts, the next was the hardest for Miyo to read. The one that affected her the most, and her face twitched with pain as she skimmed it.

_Yang Chong, Year of the Rabbit. Seventh Month. The Western Air Temple has been massacred. _

_Zenshi and Yukona are missing._

_Early reports claim that it was us. Kapil has denied any involvement. Air Nomads are demanding Sidhari intervene, and Ba Sing Se and the Water Tribes are demanding punishment for both the Fire Nation and Omashu. Even as I agree that those who are guilty should be punished, I think of how many would be punished who are not. How many have already been punished. And I wonder when it all went so wrong._

_When did we misunderstand what we were fighting?_

_I fear Sidhari will not turn her eyes from this. I fear the spirits will not, either._

And the next series of letters quickly summed up the conclusion of the Ten-Year War, Yojing's thoughts permeating the text.

_Tenth Month. Sidhari has called a council. She insists all countries send representatives, but the Water Tribe refuses to participate until their princess is returned. Zenshi and Yukona are still missing._

_Twelve Month. The council was convened without the Water Tribe. Sidhari obviously sides with Ba Sing Se and the Air Nomads in the debate. She says she will hold off on her decision until after the New Year, and I thank the spirits that we shall have the holiday. Though I doubt there will be any celebration._

_Kapil erupted during council, and Sidhari has demanded his immediate removal as Fire Lord. Though he has support in the military, the public blames him for the massacre._

_I anticipate he will be removed before the end of the month. As Pran is only four and Kanzagan is a baby, Kapil's brother will likely take his place._

That was the last letter from the era of the war, the story unfinished. Though Miyo could finish it, herself. The sanctions, the rebuilding of the Western Air Temple by the Eastern Nuns. The very gradual return of the Southern Water Tribe. And the two who started it all – Zenshi and Yukona – never seen again. Presumably dead in the massacre, as many bodies were never recovered.

The next letter – whole paper rather than a torn fragment – was from years later, its tone considerably changed. Yojing's writing was still imbued with emotion, but he no longer scribbled events as they happened. Rather, he related them to his wife, as if these were letters meant to be sent, rather than notes on scrolls.

_Jiong Yu, Year of the Boarcuepine. Ninth Month, Seventh Day._

_Second Sage Luo has passed away. His funeral was held two days ago with little fanfare, as the Temple could not afford a proper tribute feast. We managed, however, to replace most of the sacred items lost, and Yosuke brought tea with him when he returned from leave. It was, in all, a good ceremony. I believe his spirit will rest._

_Great Sage Wuzhong has asked me to assume duties as Second Sage, and I've accepted. I have prayed many hours over the matter, and I think now that this is the will of the spirits. I think you would approve, too. It will bring great honor to our family._

_Next week, I intend to stop all Sages from leaving the Dragon Island. Visits home and to other Temples are costly, at a time when we can hardly find enough oil to supply the fires. The Sages will not take this news well, I'm afraid, but there is no other choice._

_My wife, forgive me. I will not see you at New Year. And should the message-hawks stop, this might be the last letter you receive for some time. I ask you to wait for me; don't marry Uncle Thungyai while I'm gone. He is too old for you._

The next letter was longer, ten years after the last. As if nothing had happened in the intervening time, though Miyo suspected a lot had. Yojing was just choosing his letters carefully.

_Yi An, Year of the Hog-Monkey. Ninth Month, Tenth Day._

_Sidhari came last night. She wanted to see His Eminence, with whom she has long been friends, and whose health has steadily deteriorated as the summer wanes. She came in secret and asked that I not reveal her visit. I think this is reasonable. Though the embargos have been lifted for nearly two years, the very mention of her name still inspires fury in these halls._

_She did not stay long; only a few moments in His Eminence's chamber and no more. She looks much older, dear Hana, than last I saw her. But I suppose the last seventeen years have aged us all far more than one would expect._

_I had some time with her, during which we chatted. About the summer seas, about the gullican migrations. About nothing. But then I asked her the one question we've all asked ourselves, for nearly twenty years: Why?_

_I should never share this with anyone, but I will share it with you, my Hana, because I share everything with you. Sidhari stared at me, and I thought she wouldn't speak. Yet this is what she said._

_Because the world does not need an Avatar. Because she is just one person, fallible and imperfect, and because she should not have any power over the lives of others. She told me, with building anger, that those who came to rely on her would never rely on themselves. She told me that she was disgusted with how the countries act like children, refusing to work together or share the only world we have._

_But after the massacre, she realized that she'd always thought of how the world should work, and not how it actually did. She realized that, though she was afraid of using her power to control people, she had committed an even greater sin by not using it at all. _

_She cried as she told me this, and I believed in her regret. I still believe in it. But I will not tell the world. Do you know why, Hana? Why I should tell no one but you? _

_Because I fear, now, the world may agree with what she originally thought._

Miyo was stunned for a moment, unable to do anything but read over the letter repeatedly, as if with each subsequent attempt, it might make more sense. Sidhari had agreed with those who were after Hikoshu? What did it mean if the _Avatar_ didn't believe there should be an Avatar? And if Yojing had not wanted anyone to know the truth, why had he left it for someone to find?

Puzzled, she forced herself to keep reading; there had to be an answer somewhere in the remaining letters.

_Hun Shun, Year of the Rooster-Crow. Third Month. Fifteenth Day._

_Gusoku has stepped down and Kanzagan has been named Fire Lord. The Great Sage Wuzhong has passed away, and as expected, I was offered the title despite the protests of the Fire Temples._

_But I have turned it down. Hana, I am coming home. It has been ten years since I saw your beautiful face or read a letter by your hand. I have drawn your smile a hundred times since that day, and I suppose I will draw it a thousand times more before I finally join you._

_Until then, I will come home. And I will plant a cherry tree in memory of you._

His wife had died before he could see her again. Somberly, Miyo flipped back through the previous notes, trying to determine when exactly she had passed away. It was quite possible Hana had been gone for years while he wrote these letters to her, with no hope of her ever reading them.

All because of Sidhari.

The next note was dated fifteen years later. No longer a scrap or a message scroll, it was actually artwork – inky portraits and landscapes, with some bits of information scribbled around them.

_Ti An, Year of the Elephant-Rat,_ written around an image of that very animal. _Kanzagan has found the Avatar candidates. Insists I take on the most likely. _A drawing of the sigils of the Four Nations. _So much resentment, still lingering. _The flame sigil, drawn to consume the side of the paper._ Himizu is plotting._

The next note had no date. Simply a picture of an old man's face, his expression sad. _How slowly time passes, and yet how quickly. Himizu resents Kanzagan's interference. Resents me. Three years until Hikoshu learns what he is. So much he doesn't know – so many years. I can't possibly tell him._

The sheet behind it had a woman smiling. _Have I done wrong? _was written in the corner, and beside her mouth, _He's a child. We are all children. _

Then, just below her head: _It will be soon, Hana._

None of it made much sense to her, but the words were ominous, steeped in a hidden threat. And with some trepidation, she took the last letter, the paper white where the others were yellowed. Newer, and written so carefully that she was certain Yojing had written it knowing the person who opened that Air Lock would read it.

_The cycle of the years. The cycle of the seasons. The cycle of the Avatar._

_Is everything doomed to repeat? Can we ever escape what we once were? Or is our past always fated to be our future?_

_For us, life is a circle. For the Air Nomads, it is a spiral. Always twisting back to the same point, but always a little closer to the center._

_Hikoshu, escape your past._

_Find the center._

He'd known Hikoshu would return. All that time, Yojing knew Hikoshu would come back, looking for answers. And yet his study was wiped clean, emptied of everything but this single box. A box that Hikoshu could only open if he could airbend.

Yojing had wanted to Hikoshu to have the truth, but he couldn't bear to give it to him. _Escape your past_. He'd spent so many years haunted by his own past, fighting hard to keep it from being Hikoshu's.

With a soft sigh, she gathered the papers together. No, nothing useful in them that could tell her who had sent the last message to Hikoshu. But they would mean a lot more to him, anyway. So she folded them carefully and tucked them in her sash, then leaned forward to place the little box back in its hole.

Distracted by the drawer, she didn't hear the door squeak open. But she felt the draft, and gasping, she spun toward the entryway.

An elderly Sage in a heavy red over-robe stood in the door, his gray beard hanging to his chest, his hat missing. A flame floated above one palm, and when he let it go, the room grew dimmer.

"Master Sage," she stuttered, pushing herself off the marble floor. "I'm sorry, I was just touring the Temple."

"Is that so?" The Sage's expression was blank, his half-lidded eyes regarding her as he casually brushed a hand along his beard. "I take it from your outfit that you're an Eastern Air Nun. Newly ordained?" Swallowing hard as she tried to regain her composure, she simply nodded. "Then tell me, Mistress Nun, why are you wandering our sacred temple without some sort of escort?"

"I…arrived late this evening. And I plan to leave early tomorrow. I didn't want to keep my escort up all night." The lie didn't tumble so easily from her lips this time, and she spoke quickly to make up for it. "I'm sorry if I disturbed anyone. I promised Yu Ping I would be as quiet as possible."

"You failed miserably." With almost indifference, he glanced at the shoji door, the rice paper torn and the frame visibly cracked, then returned his gaze to her. "Is there a reason you broke into this study through the back door?"

"No." She quickly stepped away from the shelf – and away from him. "I lost my balance and fell into the door. From the inside. I'm so sorry for the damage."

"An airbender losing her balance?" There was amusement in his voice. "Even this late at night, I'm not tired enough to believe _that_, Air Nun Miyo."

Her insides went cold. She'd never given Yu Ping her real name.

The Sage seemed to read the horror in her face, his smile turning grim. "I know everything that goes on here. I know every person, be they Sage, Nun, or layman, who walks through those hallowed doors. And to think that you would dare presume to fool me with a paltry disguise and a feeble excuse?"

Now he stepped further into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. "No, Nun Miyo, I'm aware of who you are. And I'm aware of why you're here. But I assure you, the Water Tribesmen aren't hiding in this room."

"Your Eminence?" she said as his bearing grew more familiar to her. As his words filtered through her wave of anxiety. "You kidnapped the Water Tribe princess?"

"And now you insult me." He stopped just before her, towering over her though they were nearly the same height. "I'm not so inefficient when it comes to abductions."

Confusion battling with terror, Miyo glanced about the room helplessly. He didn't kidnap the tribesmen? Then how did he know about them? How did he know why she was there?

Yojing's letter. _Himizu is plotting_.

"You…," she trailed off, taking another step back. Fortunately, he didn't follow. "You want to take Hikoshu's bending."

The fact she had that knowledge obviously surprised him, his eyebrows climbing up his wrinkled forehead, toward the gray topknot in his hair. "Indeed, that sounds a little more accurate." His startled look vanished. "News just reached me of a prison break, not a half hour ago. It seems there was an airbender in Mazo Prison. Or a waterbender. The reports were rather muddled. But I think we both suspect what airbender that could possibly be."

She edged closer to the door as he talked, putting the table between them. "He's escaped?" Then Hikoshu was still free. And still safe. "I don't know where he is."

"Nor do I, but I know where he's going. The only place he _would_ go, in the company of a Fire Princess. And I suppose, in the hour, he'll be coming here." Himizu's golden eyes bored into her. "For you."

A brief pause passed between them, as Miyo registered his words. But before he could move, she lifted her arms and swung them down to one side. In response, a gust blasted through the room, slamming into the bottom of the short table and heaving it into the Sage.

He threw a fire punch to block it, but she'd already spun about, darting for the shoji door. This time, it slid easily, and she threw it open to make her escape into the garden. Yet abruptly, her vision filled with fire, and with a shout, she created an air barrier, the flames smashing into it fiercely enough to push her back into the room.

When the curtain of fire cleared, two Sages stared back at her, their hands raised, faces set in determination. In identical form, they swept through a low stance, and flames sprayed from their fists and feet. Miyo split the fire with her palms, pushing them to either side, then spun between the currents to bend a wind that caught the left man in the chest. He flew backwards, landing with a thump somewhere in the shadows of the garden.

The last firebender dodged her attack by stepping right, then answered with a crescent kick, the flaming arc spreading wide and high. Miyo rolled under it as she swung her arm low, and a breeze took out the Sage's leg. He twisted to land on his shoulder, but he didn't even touch the ground. Miyo hit him with a blast of air strong enough to toss him into the garden, too.

Turning quickly, she lifted her hands to deal with the Great Sage. But Himizu was just behind her, and he grabbed one of her wrists to stop the attack. Surprised, she tried to break his hold with her other hand, but he simply blocked that one, too, his grip on her second arm preventing her from pivoting free.

"You could airbend your way out," he murmured darkly, the firelight making his eyes look harsh, "but you might have to kill me to do it."

That terrified her; she didn't want to kill _anyone_. But she couldn't be captured, for Hikoshu's sake. So with her fading courage, Miyo brought her knee high, catching the Sage squarely in the gut. The air blast from her leg knocked him loose, sending him toward the wall, and she tucked herself into a back-flip. Upon landing, she saw that Himizu had been thrown into the stone, his body quickly slipping to the floor.

His eyes were shut, and his head was limp against his shoulder.

It was the Air Temple library all over again. Suddenly, the Great Sage didn't seem so threatening. He was just an old man, the wrinkled skin of his cheeks sagging with age, his brow furrowed with some unknown pain. Just an old man, and she'd thrown him into a wall. Had she killed him? Had she simply knocked him out?

Part of her argued to _run_. That it didn't matter whether or not he was dead; this was her only opportunity to escape. If she could find Hikoshu, she could save them all. But she had to leave _now_. That part of her was met with resistance from the other part of her, which screamed that she couldn't just leave him there without knowing if he'd be alright.

No, she had to check. Just to make sure he was breathing.

Wary from the last time she'd tried to help an enemy, Miyo edged closer to him, her hands raised. Under his beard, his chest didn't rise, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the awkward way his head rested on the wall, or if it were something more serious. But his skin certainly looked an unhealthy color. Or was that just age? Or the firelight?

Slowly, she knelt by him, planting one knee on a lifeless hand. Holding it down in case he attacked. Then, carefully, she snuck her fingers past his beard and to his neck, to the place Natquik had shown her in order to feel for a pulse.

And suddenly, his other hand grabbed at her.

Gasping, she knocked it away easily and sprung back to her feet. But with her attention on him, Miyo never even saw the Sages who had come up behind her. She only realized what had happened when they both seized her at once, their combined weight and strength preventing her from escaping their grip.

Himizu picked himself up in the meantime, dusting off his over-robe as if merely inconvenienced by her throw. With an annoyed frown, he scanned her, taking in her pinned arms and her tightly held legs. "I suppose I should have expected that." Then he reached forward to pull the papers from her sash.

"Don't!" she shouted uselessly, her neck held in a deadly grip, ready to be snapped if she so much as moved. "Don't touch those!"

"These are from Yojing." He flipped through them idly, his mouth pursing. "I honestly thought he'd had all of these burned." Then, with a sigh, he held a hand under the papers and set them on fire.

"No!" Despite her dangerous situation, she struggled against the firebenders, struggling to save those scrolls. They were Yojing's last words for Hikoshu. Messages that he would've given anything to have. And her heart breaking, she watched as they were quickly engulfed in flames, tiny bits of ash flying up on waves of heat.

So much lost. So many years.

In one last desperate attempt, she blew out her breath forcefully to extinguish the flames. Augmented by airbending, the breath slammed into Himizu, throwing him against the wall once more. But it wasn't strong enough to dislodge her from the Sages' grip, nor was Himizu fazed by the attack.

Grunting, he straightened, the scraps of unburnt scroll falling from his hand. "Tie her up well. She can't be able to airbend. And that means gagging her, too."

The scrolls gone, Hikoshu lured into a trap. Everything was going wrong, and she had herself to blame. Somewhere beyond her misery, she felt one of the Sages press his thumb against the side of her throat. Locating a pressure point to render her unconscious. As her vision faded, part of her urged her to fight. And another part said it was pointless.

Pointless.

**

* * *

A/N: **Miyo's insecurity might be too heavy-handed. I tried to showcase it without laying it on too thick, but I'm thinking I failed to do that. Advice on how that came off is, as always, appreciated.


	39. Hall of the Ambassadors

**Chapter 38 – Hall of the Ambassadors**

* * *

Though Hikoshu had visited the Fire Palace dozens of times, he had never entered the city itself. It was, to him, a sleeping beast, its squat body hidden under thick groves, its limbs wreathed in rice paddies and surrounded by an earth ditch. A mysterious creature, so large that he couldn't properly fathom it, even when an occasional break in the trees afforded them a view from the sloping path of the fire-speckled capital.

As they made their way through the forest, barely missing roots and ruts in the overgrown road, Hikoshu worried that Tala would take them through one of the city gates. If they had to use the city streets to get to the Palace, it would add too much time to the journey. Time they couldn't waste.

Natquik also seemed to share this concern, walking close to Hikoshu while Tala lit the path in front of them.

"We don't have time to walk all of that." In his light, the waterbender looked ragged, his hair coming undone from its topknot, soot smudging his face. Hikoshu didn't know if he was hurt, but he imagined Natquik would've handled it if he were. "Those men are probably free by now."

"I'll figure something out," Hikoshu said vaguely. Much like earlier, he didn't really have a plan. In the prison, his lack of a plan meant that they would've had to search every cell. Now, his lack of a plan meant they'd have to rely on Tala to take them where they needed to go. And despite a nagging feeling that told him they weren't headed in the right direction, he still felt more comfortable. After all, a blind search couldn't be so blind with the help of one of the highest-ranking people on that island.

Fortunately, Tala seemed to understand the need for discretion as well as speed, and Hikoshu realized with relief that she was leading them to one of the three inaccessible gates on the eastern side of the city. As these were near the storage areas of the Palace, they were only used for transportation of stores, or sometimes for processionals to the volcano just behind it.

And due to the proximity of the volcano, they were naturally protected. So that when the three approached the one-story gate, its red eaves rather uninspiring over a pair of vermilion columns, only one guard stepped out from its shelter to confront them.

Tala pulled up short as the man made his way down the steps. Hikoshu had the sudden desire to hide in the woods, but the princess didn't seem at all concerned about their presence, her head high and her shoulders thrown back in majestic dignity despite her burnt, disheveled appearance.

The guard didn't notice how she looked at first, so intent was he on kneeling. But when he straightened, he couldn't hold back a gape, the whites of his eyes visible even under the lip of his helmet. "Your Highness, what happened?"

"I told you I expect no questions," she snapped, likely referencing an earlier conversation. "These men are with me."

The guard wiped at the front of his armor as he examined them, his gold visor framing a baffled and uncertain expression. "Your Highness, I can't let unidentified people into the Palace. You know that."

"This is Fire Sage Po-han from Nara Island." Tala's flame-filled hand swung backward to take in Natquik, who automatically shrank away. But with a nudge from Hikoshu, he assumed Tala's haughty attitude, trying to mimic some level of disdain. The expression was ridiculous on him. "And a servant." She didn't gesture toward Hikoshu, which was just as well; he was dressed nothing like one. "There. Now they're identified."

The guard was unconvinced, and he took a hesitant step back toward the gate bridge. "Still, Your Highness, I should probably run this by my superior."

And suddenly, Tala's hauteur was gone. She swept forward to follow his retreat, her voice low. "Rizhi, I came to you because I trust you. And there's not many in the Palace that I trust. Please. My brother can't know I left the Palace tonight."

Though Hikoshu could only see the back of her head, he heard the change in her timbre, and noticed the way her shoulders relaxed. Now she looked her proper height, just a bit shorter than the guard in front of her. And everything in her demeanor pleaded for him to help.

Rizhi still seemed reluctant to give in, but there was something about her desperation that obviously appealed to the young man. Finally, he nodded, his throat visibly bobbing as he swallowed. "Of course, Your Highness. Just…don't cause any trouble. For both our sakes."

She looked on the verge of hugging him. But instead, her shoulders hiked back once more, and her chin stuck upward. "Thank you so much, Rizhi. You have my word that you'll be fine."

He eyed her doubtfully, but allowed them all three to pass, unobstructed, into the Palace grounds. Hikoshu threw him a glance as they walked by, trying to memorize his face. Though it had been necessary, he really hoped the young man didn't come to regret his decision to let them in.

The roads of the Palace were dark at that time of night. During the day, the Palace bustled with so much activity that it was practically a city within a city. Yet when the Temple bells tolled at sunset, the entire compound shut down, its ministers, staff, and everyone in between departing for their homes within the City Proper. Because of that, the narrow roads were also empty, the air filled only with the sound of their footsteps on the paving stones, echoing off walls that sectioned off the various sub-compounds.

Those walls were about Hikoshu's height, topped with the same red tiles as the roofs of the one-story buildings. He couldn't see much beyond them, though; the Palace was a complex maze of squares and plazas, broken frequently by gardens and forest stands. The heavy branches of willows and orange trees hid the skyline so well that he could only occasionally glimpse the gable of a building between their dark leaves.

Luckily, they didn't have to rely on his memory of the Palace grounds, which would have surely led them into a dead-end. Tala knew exactly where they were going. And even though she didn't seem to think much of sneaking about her own home – her fire lit and her strides filled with confidence – she did take them directly to the embassy quarter.

Hikoshu and Natquik didn't share in her confidence. They slunk behind her, both keeping an eye on every intersection or alleyway, prepared for surprise attacks or suspicious guards. Hikoshu's fingers itched with nerves from the silent night, and beside him, Natquik's hand was hidden under his robe, likely clasping his water skin. They expected a fight at any moment, yet their hurried walk was uninterrupted.

Concerned by the surprising lack of patrols, Hikoshu caught up to Tala as they turned onto a new avenue. "Where's the night watch?" he murmured, afraid his voice might carry past the walls. Tala shot him a blank look, then glanced around the road as if just noticing.

"Nizan's ordered double patrols on a ship he's launching tomorrow. So the Palace is operating on a skeleton crew tonight."

"He's put all of his best men into guarding a docked warship?" Natquik's voice wasn't nearly as low as Hikoshu's, nor was it nearly as polite. "From what? Fisherwives?"

"It's not a warship." The glare Tala threw back at him was fierce. "And I find it ironic a Water Tribesman would remark on us being too protective of _any_ ship."

"Actually, why is he ordering double patrols?" Hikoshu interrupted their bitter argument. He didn't care if they got along or not, but he did care about Natquik's point; there wasn't any good reason for Nizan to leave the Palace essentially undefended for a ship launching. Not unless he feared someone attacking the boat.

"I don't know." Tala slowly pulled back from her ire, once more focusing on the road. "Nizan is the very definition of irrational these days."

Though unsatisfying, it was the best answer she had. And Hikoshu accepted it, reminding himself that even if it didn't make much sense, it had the unexpected benefit of allowing them to walk the Palace unrecognized.

They encountered no one as Tala led them through another red-colonnaded gate, this one a little more extravagant, and into an empty square. To either side were six terraced buildings, identical in their bright red columns and irimoya roofs. Under the deep eaves, rows of rice-paper windows marked the rooms, practically invisible from that distance. In the center of each building was a wood-frame entrance.

Tala headed for the one immediately to their left, a sign above its door declaring it to be the Hall of the Ambassadors. Hikoshu, though, trailed behind her, his uneasy feeling growing more pronounced the higher he climbed the steps of the terrace. No, it definitely felt like they weren't going in the right direction; in fact, it felt like a very _wrong_ direction.

More anxious than he'd been that entire night, he forced himself to follow Natquik into the hall.

The Hall itself was unlike the other royal buildings. Designed to look less like the Fire Nation, the polished wood floor glinted brightly under the oil lamps, which in turn cast a dim light on a ceiling depicting various mythical beasts of foreign origin. Tall, latticed windows filled either end of the one-floor corridor, black now with the night, and a long row of doors faced a wall of lavish woodwork.

Enough wood that, had it been for any other purpose, the building surely would have burned. But it wasn't meant for firebenders, and the décor evoked a more relaxed feeling for those foreigners who weren't used to so much stone.

Not waiting for either Tala or Hikoshu, Natquik approached the first door left of the entrance. There, he pulled up his over-sized robe to lean back on one foot. Preparing to kick it open.

Before he could, Tala grabbed his arm, practically yanking him off-balance. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

He stumbled, but recovered quickly, shaking her off his arm with a frown. "Checking this room, obviously."

"By breaking down the door?" It took Hikoshu a moment to register what he was about to do, and now he stared at Natquik with some horror. "Why would you do that?"

The waterbender scowled – another unusual expression for him – and gestured at the door. "I figure if my people are in there, either it's locked or they're dead."

"I assure you, it's not locked. Just try the handle." She shot him an offended glare as she did just that. And much to Natquik's obvious surprise, it swung open easily.

The room was dark, but Tala stepped inside and produced a small fire, its light illuminating the rice-paper windows that encompassed the opposite wall. On one side of the room was a shrine – a generic gold altar shaped like a dragon and surrounded by incense holders, capable of meeting any religious need. On the other side, there was a small bed, hidden by thin silk drapes of light purple. Except for a pitcher and basin set on a short table next to the windows, there were no other furnishings.

"Empty," Tala said stiffly, though Natquik pushed past her anyway to draw the curtains from the bed. She waited with strained patience for him to finish his examination, then ushered them both to the next door.

Every room was the same. None of the furniture varied, not even the placement of the porcelain dishes. Sometimes a smell of fire lilies would reach Hikoshu from the open door, but more often than not, the rooms were redolent of old incense smoke and dust. And each time that there was no hidden prisoner inside, Natquik grew even more impatient.

"I thought she said there was a girl here," he said darkly to Hikoshu as Tala stepped into another empty chamber, his voice low enough that she wouldn't hear. "She's just wasting our time."

"She's helping us," Hikoshu said, growing tired of his distrustful mood, and moved on to the next door. Natquik crossed his arms over his chest as he followed.

They had reached the end of the left corridor and were halfway down the right when something finally changed. At that point, Natquik was glowering at the back of Tala's head, and Hikoshu's instincts were now screaming for him to leave. The combination of the tense air and his tense nerves had set off a throbbing pain in his head that made it hard to concentrate. So he didn't even realize at first that the handle didn't turn. Not until he tried to push the door open, and it held firmly.

"It's locked," he muttered dully, taking a step back.

And then Natquik was elbowing him out of the way. "Thank the spirits." Again, he reared up on one leg to land a sound kick on the door, and again, Tala nearly pulled him off his feet.

"Stop!" The word was sharp, but quiet, as if she were afraid of waking someone. "You don't know who's in that room!"

"No, I don't _care_ who's in that room." Fortunately, he at least paused in his attempt to get through the door. "I told you, they wouldn't be in an unlocked room. And I intend to check this one, even if it means going through you."

"Natquik," Hikoshu said, struggling to think past the dull ache behind his eyes, "if it's not Sahani, you're going to cause a lot more problems and make it far more difficult for us to search the _remaining_ rooms."

"I'm checking that room, Hikoshu, one way or another." He looked neither angry nor threatening. Simply determined. And sighing, Hikoshu turned instead to Tala.

"Please, Your Highness, would you just knock?" He couldn't suppress the weariness in his voice. "If it's a guest, I'll take the blame for waking him."

Tala nodded, but her narrow-eyed glare never left Natquik as she rapped on the door. They stood in uncomfortable silence as no answer issued from the other side, and she knocked again with barely restrained anger. When, again, no one responded, Natquik moved as if to force his way through the door, and Hikoshu stretched out an arm to block him.

"Wait—"

At that moment, the door clicked open, and the fight was forgotten as they all three turned toward it. It was hard to make out the occupant in the shadows of the room, but obligingly, the person moved into the light.

Hikoshu's jaw dropped as he immediately recognized that short, young woman.

"Your Highness?" Yan-lin said groggily, blinking at the princess in front of her, and pulled a long, red evening robe tight across her chest. "What is it?"

It was then, though, that she noticed the two floored men staring over Tala's shoulder. Her eyes went wide, her skin paled, and suddenly she was a flurry of activity, pushing past Tala almost rudely to seize Hikoshu's hand.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered sharply as she dragged him into the room, and even before Natquik could speak, she was yanking him in, too. After Tala had entered, Yan-lin quickly slammed the door shut and leaned against it, her expression as stricken as if a ghost were outside.

"Rescuing you?" Hikoshu said, still dazed at this sudden turn of events. It hadn't occurred to him that Yan-lin was almost Tala's age, or that she could be the girl in the Ambassadors' Wing. In fact, so focused were they on their fruitless search for the tribesmen, he hadn't even considered the possibility of finding Yan-lin first.

"Rescuing…?" She repeated absently, her eyes on Hikoshu. Slowly, though, her gaze shifted to Natquik, and she covered her mouth with a hand, her face turning sickly green. "I thought you were dead."

"Takes more than major head injuries to kill me," he said with his familiar wry grin, rubbing at his bruised cheek. "Do you know where they're holding my tribespeople?"

"You all know each other?" Tala interrupted, holding a fire in her palm, but Yan-lin didn't look at her or Natquik – didn't even seem to hear their questions.

So Hikoshu answered for her. "It's complicated." But then his attention returned to Yan-lin as the curious events of her capture came back to him. "What happened? Why did they kidnap you?"

"I…I don't know," she said in a way that indicated she knew exactly why. Still rattled, she pushed away from the door, combing her fingers through unruly hair as she scanned the floor. "You have to get out of here. Both of you."

"Agreed." Distracted, Natquik crossed the room to the windows. "But you might want to get dressed first. Or at least put on some shoes before we go." Carelessly, he tried to poke a hole in a rice paper square, but it resisted the force of his finger.

The suggestion apparently caught her off-guard, and she stopped, one foot in a sandal. "What? No, you don't understand. You both have to leave _now_."

"And we plan to," Hikoshu said as he turned toward the door, his instincts still sounding a warning in his head. That, combined with Yan-lin's strange insistence, was making him terribly uncomfortable with the scene. But more than anything, it was how desperate she looked to get rid of them that put him on edge. "We still have to find Natquik's family, but we can do that after we save you."

"Hikoshu, listen to me!" Suddenly, she was in front of him, glaring up at him so heatedly that he drew away from her livid frown. "You can't be here. Not here, and not together. So just leave!" She punctuated her sentence with an angry shove, planting both hands on his chest. Shocked, he took a step back.

Tala had moved in the meantime, her arm shooting between the two to stop the fight. "Don't push him!"

"Wait, what's going on?" Natquik was now behind Yan-lin, taking hold of her shoulder.

"No, let it go." Hikoshu fought back his rising anger, trying to keep perspective. Though he couldn't understand what was making her so mad, he could tell that Yan-lin was earnest in her plea. As her own anger faded, she clutched her over-robe tight to her breast, watching him miserably over Tala's arm. "If that's what she wants, then we'll leave."

"No. You don't get to do that." Her expression transformed, and she again looked furious, brushing past Tala to place herself once more in front of his chest. "You don't get to care now, when you've never cared before."

"Never cared? Yan-lin, you won't _let_ me not care." He avoided her gaze as he signaled Tala to stay back. This was a private fight that he'd long ago expected. He just hadn't expected to have it in the middle of the Fire Palace. "I don't know what you want from me!"

"I want to be rid of you!" She was nearly on his toes again, and he retreated several steps, finally forced to meet her eyes. "I want to stop questioning myself, and more than anything, I want to hate you!" She slammed her palm against his chest again, making him back up even more. Though, in reality, it was her wild glare rather than her aggression that drove him away.

"I want you to understand. I want you to hear_ me_. And I don't want to be used!" The back of his calves hit the short table, nearly upsetting the pitcher, but Yan-lin followed him, a finger jabbed into his ribs. "I want you to be everything I've always thought you should be, everything you always seemed you would be. So why _now_? Why do you choose now to be something else?"

"Dear spirits, Yan-lin!" He grabbed her hand roughly, jerking it away from his chest as he matched her glare head on. "Why won't you just let me be your friend? Why do I have to embody something you hate?"

That seemed to kill the fire in her, and she slowly pulled back, her expression morphing from anger to fear again. And an indecipherable look of guilt.

"Because…if you aren't…," she trailed off, swallowing thickly as she glanced at the door behind her. When she turned back to them, her eyes were glassy in Tala's firelight. "I've made a mistake. And you have to leave before they come here."

Those words sent Hikoshu's uneasy feeling into a veritable maelstrom of dread, and he saw the same reaction of alarmed suspicion in Natquik. It couldn't be that Yan-lin had somehow given them away to those who had kidnapped her. After all, she didn't even know they would come that night.

Betrayed by the one who asked for the shell. He had assumed it was the qu-dan. But who had told him about the shell? Who had asked him to find one?

She seemed to cower as it dawned on him, the feeling of betrayal rocking him to his very core. He didn't know how, but that look of remorse merely confirmed it. She'd done something very wrong, and if they didn't leave now, they would find out what.

"What did you do?" He felt cold, as if dropped in a river, but an unbearable heat also rose from his stomach. Unwilling to answer him, Yan-lin kept her eyes on her palms, which she rubbed together frantically. "Yan-lin!"

"I think we need to go," Natquik said, returning to the small hole he'd finally made in the window, and Tala nodded, lighting a candle on the table.

"Worry about it later, Hikoshu."

A knock at the door made everyone start, and quickly, their heads swiveled toward it. From the other side, a muffled voice emerged. "Mistress Consul? Could you open this door?"

Yan-lin blanched even more, if possible, and waved them all toward the window. "Just one moment! Let me dress!" Hikoshu was loath to trust her now, when by all indications they were in this position because of her. But there wasn't much choice.

"Mistress, I insist you open it immediately!" the man returned, and Hikoshu motioned Tala toward Natquik as he took the candle from her. The waterbender was already pulling a knife from his boot, preparing to cut through the paper.

"Please, give me a-" Yan-lin never finished her sentence, as the door abruptly flew open along its hinges, the crack of wood filling the air. Its breeze caught the candlelight, and they were all plunged in darkness, leaving only the silhouettes of the three men standing outside. But the Sages, easily identified by their uniquely-shaped hats, had seen them. And in unison, they entered the room with fists raised.

"Yan-lin!" Hikoshu shouted, pulling her away by the shoulder as they came in. Something flew past her, indefinable, and made a loud clunk as it buried itself in the door sill, barely missing one of the Sages. He realized as he hid Yan-lin behind him that it was Natquik's knife, and he looked over in time to see the waterbender pull his water skin free.

Then fire erupted in the room. Several blasts exploded, from the Sages and from Tala, filling the space between them with flames. Conscious of Yan-lin, Hikoshu created a barrier of wind to protect himself and her. In response, the flames shot up to the ceiling and dissipated on the wood rafters, only to be replaced with another wave of fire as Tala threw up a curtain of flames to shield them.

"Open the window!" he yelled at Tala, who, without her tiara, was likely indistinguishable as royalty. She nodded and darted past him just as the Sages cut through the shield. And then one of the Sages was jerked forward off his feet, narrowly missing them as he slammed through the window that Tala was preparing to destroy. She jumped back, startled, as Natquik retrieved the stream of water he'd used to fling the Sage. Whirling, he turned the water on the next Sage, but the man was anticipating the attack, and immediately, the stream evaporated against his block.

Yan-lin was clutching his shoulders, but he could hardly pay attention to her. He could hardly even pay attention to Natquik, who tripped on his oversized robe as he tried to dodge a fiery slice, or to the remnant rice-paper window that shook the room as it exploded from Tala's blast. All he was really paying attention to was the Sage advancing on him.

The man attacked first, kicking a flaming arc and punching a series of fire blasts that were probably meant to stun rather than to kill. Unable to evade, Hikoshu threw up his arms to block, the fire consuming his sleeves. Its force shoved him backwards, hard enough that he felt Yan-lin's body crash into his, and he had to fight to keep his balance.

Twisting about to face her, he seized her arm and pushed her toward Tala wordlessly. Then, spinning on his heel, he threw a gust of air that smashed into the Sage's chest, throwing him back into the hall. He hit the opposite wall hard and fell, unmoving.

Natquik was struggling with his own opponent. Now without water, he was merely dodging the attacks, Hikoshu's old Fire Sage robe discarded and burning under his feet. But the Sage was distracted enough by his unarmed enemy that Hikoshu could lash out at him with fire. It was only because of a last-moment twinge of guilt for attacking the man unaware that he pulled his punch, and the fire merely made the Sage totter.

But it also made him look away, if momentarily, from Natquik. And the waterbender quickly grabbed the Sage's outstretched arm to swing him against the nearby wall. He hit with a dull thud and crumpled to the floor.

"You alright?" Hikoshu asked, beating at his smoking sleeves, and Natquik nodded as he pulled out his half-loose topknot.

"We might've been in trouble if they'd been trained soldiers."

Hikoshu frowned at that, studying the man at his feet, the Sage's face illuminated by the burning scraps of Natquik's robe. His hat had been knocked off early in the fight, but he still looked like a simple, lower-ranking Fire Sage, his short-sleeved, short-hemmed habit easily marking him.

"Why aren't they soldiers?" Hikoshu wondered aloud, then looked up at a flash of light at the destroyed window. The remnant wood and paper still burned, pieces falling off in red embers, and above them, occasional sparks floated down from the rafters. Quickly, he bended the small fires away, then turned to Tala and Yan-lin, who both stood just outside the charred remains of the window.

"This wasn't my fault," Yan-lin said, her dark face made darker with smoke stains. "I didn't know you would be here tonight. I never talked to the Sages."

And suddenly, all the earlier feelings of betrayal resurfaced. "Why should I believe that?"

"Because it doesn't make any difference," Natquik said, carefully crawling through the opening. "Whether or not she told them, they know we're here." Tala offered him a hand, and for the first time, he seemed to trust her enough to take it. Hikoshu followed, avoiding Yan-lin's eyes in the process.

"But why Sages? If the prison guards had escaped, why wouldn't they send soldiers?"

"Ask him," Tala said as he emerged from the room, and she signaled to a black figure lying at her feet. They were now out on the terrace that surrounded the hall, under the shadow of the wide eaves. And the figure next to her seemed to be the Sage that Natquik had thrown outside earlier, his hands tied behind his back with what Hikoshu suspected was Tala's belt. A quick glance at the princess proved his guess to be right, as Tala held her robes carefully shut, her mouth stern and her hair in disarray.

Hikoshu knelt beside the man, pushing on his shoulder to see his face. He was no one Hikoshu knew, probably a Sage of the Fire Temple. About the same age as Naqtuik, he stared up at them with wide, defiant eyes, his nose sharp and thin.

"Who sent you?" Hikoshu asked wearily, not even expecting an answer. There was none. "How did you know where to find us?"

"Why don't you try burning off a finger?" Natquik said almost too casually, and Hikoshu shot him a horrified look. He shrugged defensively. "Just trying to help."

Which it did. The man was far more willing to answer now, his mouth working soundlessly before he could speak. "He said you would come here, after he caught the airbender."

Hikoshu felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. "They have Miyo?"

Natquik started forward, and the man winced in anticipation of being kicked. Instead, he crouched next to Hikoshu and grabbed the Sage's shoulder, digging his thumb into the tender spot just beside the joint. "Where?" The man whimpered, trying to pull away, but Natquik held tight.

"I don't know!" he gasped. "We were at the Temple. In the records hall!"

"The Tamarin-Shrew wing," Hikoshu said bleakly, forcing Natquik to release him. "That's where I told her to go."

"And that's where we're going." Natquik straightened, brushing off his knees, and pinned Yan-lin with a severe frown. "Except you." Under his gaze, she crossed her arms self-consciously, but she didn't shrink away.

"Your Highness," Hikoshu said, also standing, "you've done more than enough. But this is something you shouldn't be involved in."

"More than I am already?" she added sarcastically, though she immediately turned sober. "I'll stay here with the diplomat. Clean up this mess."

Apparently recognizing both her title and her face, the man below them gave a low, agonized moan.

"Your Highness, forgive me! I-I didn't know…"

"And had you known, you still would've attacked." Her tone was unforgiving, and Hikoshu actually felt a little sorry for the Sage. The young man cowered again at the thought of his future punishment – a punishment that was coming no matter what side he'd chosen.

"You better hurry," Yan-lin said, glancing furtively around the courtyard surrounding the hall. "They'll send someone soon to investigate the fire, and I doubt it will be Sages this time."

"Where's the nearest bending tunnel?" Hikoshu directed the question to Tala, unwilling to put the Sage through any more torture. She looked about distantly in thought, then nodded toward the far end of the square.

"Past that gate is the Office of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I'd be surprised if there wasn't one in there."

If there was one, he'd find it. Bowing deeply, he pressed his hands together. "Your Highness, thank you."

"Just go. Thank me after this."

Before they could start across the terrace, though, Yan-lin suddenly took Natquik's arm, dragging him to a halt. Both he and Hikoshu looked back in surprise, but her gaze was solely on the waterbender as she murmured something.

Which, Hikoshu realized, was unintelligible to him, her words in the Water Tribe language.

She spoke swiftly, the syllables guttural and sharp, punctuated with her white-knuckled grip on his arm and the desperation in her eyes. Hikoshu's only hint to the content of the conversation was from Natquik, whose expression darkened visibly, his surprise melting into disgust. Finally, he shook her off, answering in a similar, clipped way, though his words sounded far angrier.

"Natquik, no," she said, but he was already walking away. And with one last glance at Yan-lin, Hikoshu was forced to follow.

"What did she say to you?" he asked as soon as he caught him at the bottom of the terrace. Natquik didn't slow, nor did he look at Hikoshu as he gripped the empty water skin at his side.

"She asked me to stay with her. She said she knew where Sahani was, and she would take me to her."

"Wait, what?" Hikoshu had to grab Natquik's shoulder to stop him, so intent was the waterbender on crossing the wide square. "Natquik, what are you doing, then? Go find your family!"

The expression he turned on Hikoshu was grim. "Right now, Miyo needs us more. I'll find them after we find her." Then, as he started moving again, he added under his breath, "I don't trust traitors, anyway."

Speechless, he stared after Natquik. Risking his only chance to save his tribesmen just for Miyo was either admirable or foolish, but Hikoshu was still glad for it. He'd readily admit that without Natquik, he didn't stand much of a chance himself. So trying to push Yan-lin's strange offer, as well as her possible betrayals, to the back of his mind, he hurried to catch up.

Yet unconsciously, driven partly by the instincts still writhing inside him, Hikoshu threw frequent glances back at the terrace they'd left. Swallowed by darkness, the figures by the building were invisible, but Yan-lin's last expression was clear in his mind.

Sad. Anxious. And with a lingering hint of guilt.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"I should have you arrested," Tala said the moment the two disappeared from sight, and tiredly, Yan-lin turned to face her. She was untying the bound Sage's arms and legs, though he made no attempt to get up even after being freed.

Yan-lin sighed. "Arrest me if you want. But I don't imagine you're in a position to do that right now." Tala seemed to be on the outside of everything that was going on, unaware of how dangerous the powers in control had grown. And by her own doing, Yan-lin reminded herself ruefully.

Tala wasn't pleased with the mockery, her brow warping with anger as she straightened. "Would you like to test just what I can do?"

"I would like to help Hikoshu." It sounded weak, and she couldn't even trust how honest the statement was. Rubbing at her cheek – painful where Hikoshu had stumbled into her – she surveyed the damaged room. "He's in serious danger now."

"And why did you not tell him this?"

"Because he already knows." Then quietly, more to herself, "And he wouldn't have listened to me, anyway."

"Well, then, what do you propose we do? I had the impression that, up until this point, you've done the exact opposite of helping." Her words stung, but Yan-lin had to admit the truth behind them.

When the Sage still didn't move, Tala hauled him up by the neck of his robe, and he finally obeyed, his expression beaten. "Go tend to your brothers inside. Make sure they aren't dead." Forgetting even to bow, he nodded and clambered back into the room.

"You know about the conspiracy against the Avatar," Yan-lin said, watching him go. It wasn't a question, yet Tala nodded, her eyes also on the Sage's back as he disappeared into the dark hall. "The Great Sage has found out how to rob Hikoshu of his bending."

Tala turned to regard her at this admission, but there was no accusation in her face, nor did she ask how Yan-lin knew all this. For which she was grateful; if she admitted the truth of what she'd done, Yan-lin wasn't quite sure she could live with it. Or get out of a Fire Nation prison soon enough to help Hikoshu.

"So Himizu wants to take Hikoshu's bending?" Though her expression was empty, Tala's voice held a hint of surprise. As if she hadn't known about the third faction. "How long has he been planning this?"

"I don't know." Yan-lin swallowed, her eyes skimming the square. Beyond the walls and buildings, a faint glow had started in the avenues. Announcing the arrival of the guard. "But what I do need to know is the name of the most powerful person who stands to oppose the Great Sage, as of right now."

Tala studied her, then slowly shook her head, retying her sash around her waist. "That would've been my father, but he was murdered by Himizu two months ago. So as of right now? Himizu has no opponents. He has total control of the government."

"Your father was heading the neutralist faction." She forced herself to ignore the square, catching Tala's eyes instead. "And perhaps that movement died with him, but there're still the isolationists."

The response made Tala bark a laugh. "The isolationists? They're not Himizu's enemies."

"They are, Your Highness." It was so odd, explaining to Tala the inner-workings of her own court. But Yan-lin didn't have time to feign ignorance – that orange glow was brighter – and so she laid bare the entire truth for the princess. "The isolationists want to control the Avatar. They want to leash in his power, to put it to the use of the Fire Nation. But if he's rendered impotent, they won't be able to do that. They'll lose everything they've worked for. So, please, if there are any isolationists who might still have some power, tell me where I can find them. For Hikoshu's sake."

"And what? You'll then betray him again?" Her eyes narrowed on Yan-lin, her brow growing stormy. "How can I be sure that anything I tell you won't be a mistake?"

"The Earth Kingdom doesn't want the Avatar to be neutralized by the Fire Nation. It doesn't benefit us to lose the Avatar to you." It was the most frank she'd been about Omashu's plans to anyone. But Yan-lin knew in this situation, Tala would accept nothing short of the truth. "It's more beneficial for us to eliminate the Avatar now and try to isolate him when he's born into the airbenders. That way, _we_ can control him."

"So you're going to kill Hikoshu?" Tala became guarded, and Yan-lin felt the balmy night abruptly turn even balmier.

"No! I can't kill anyone. I'm just a diplomat." Those fires had entered the gate, where she could see a handful of soldiers, racing across the compound. "But I can't let the Great Sage succeed. So, for now, I'm on your side."

Tala stared at her silently for a very long while, and Yan-lin grew increasingly desperate. There was nothing else she could say, though. She'd told most of the truth – omitting her father's designs on the Fire Nation, as well as her own self-doubt – and there was no further argument she could provide.

Finally, though, Tala nodded and pointed to the North.

"Admiral Kuzon, in the Hall of the Waves. He has a strained relationship with His Eminence." Yes, Admiral Kuzon. Yan-lin remembered him, as well as the tension between him and Himizu two days before. "I can't guarantee he'll be there at this time of night, nor can I say that he'll have an easy solution."

"Then I should hope you know someone else who can help Hikoshu."

"I'll do what I can. But I warn you, if I find you betrayed me…" Tala didn't finish the sentence, nor did she need to. The heat coming off of her in waves said enough.

"I've betrayed a lot of people this week, Your Highness," she said somberly. "I'd rather not add you to their numbers." She couldn't think about what she'd done; not right now, when Hikoshu was running headlong into his own demise. There wasn't time for any of it, so she forced the guilt back, replacing it with sheer pragmatism.

No, there wasn't much time. But hopefully, there was still enough time for Hikoshu.

* * *

**A/N: **Forgot to mention before that the Fire Nation capital looks nothing like the one in the show, and that was intentional. I'd put off the Fire Palace chapters until we had leaked scenes of Season 3, and at that time, I chose not to put the capital inside the volcano. Just for some historical variation.

And I also changed the end scene of the last chapter a little (just a small tweak that won't change the story). Not a big deal, but feel free to reread the very ending if you're so inclined.


	40. The Fire Temple

**Chapter 39 – The Fire Temple**

* * *

There was a saying that all roads led to Ba Sing Se. In the Fire Nation, all bending tunnels led to the Fire Temple, the seat of power for the Fire Sages, the holiest place among the Fire Islands. It was there that the first firebenders founded their new home, as they followed the migrating dragons away from a distant island only now faintly remembered in their collective history. An island that held the origins of their present and the remnants of their past, where they had once learned how to bend.

It was also there that the Great Sage Sota, holiest of all Sages, chose to break from the Eight and become the Fire Lord. The supreme ruler of the islands. And in his desire to unite the power of firebending to the power of the ruling class, he constructed an immense palace on the same island as the Temple. He then tied the two together with extensive underground tunnels, created from ancient mining shafts and only accessible by firebending.

So Hikoshu did not know where all the bending tunnels were inside the Fire Palace. But he did know that any one of them would take him where he wanted to go – a lofty pagoda a couple of miles away, isolated from civilization by the forests, yet still close enough to exert its power over every aspect of Fire Nation life.

Finding the tunnel wasn't difficult; though hidden, there were only a few mechanisms used to open them. The small ports were usually behind tapestries or lanterns, blending into the seamless marble walls while still easily discernable to most Sages. And after giving Natquik time to steal some water out of a flower vase, he soon had them moving through an underground passage, darkness stretching into oblivion both before and behind them.

Much like another tunnel he'd been in, Hikoshu thought bitterly, the memory taking him reluctantly back to Yan-lin. She'd said that she hadn't alerted the Sages to their presence, and the captive Sage had pretty much confirmed that. But what, then, did she do? Something serious, if she had suspected the Sages would know they were there. Did she tell them how to recognize Miyo? Had the airbender already been doomed for failure from the outset?

They couldn't ask Yan-lin about it now, though the answer didn't really matter to him anymore. No more damage could be done; the tribesmen were still missing, Miyo was captured, and Hikoshu was racing into the very midst of his enemies to find her. And now they would be lucky just to escape with their lives, let alone the lives of anyone else they'd planned to save.

Abruptly, Natquik broke the silence, his thoughts obviously in the same place. "I knew better than to trust a politician. But still…"

"I trusted her, too," Hikoshu agreed somberly. Why did he trust her? She had done nothing on the trip to gain his trust. But just being with someone for such a long journey, through such ordeals – he had thought that if she wanted to hurt him, she would have done it sooner. "Do you think the kidnapping was staged?"

"I don't want to think about that." His voice was stony, and Hikoshu stole a glance at him. Though his blue robes bore some scorch marks, in a superficial sense, he looked more like his old self. Yet his expression was set in determination, his clenched jaw half hidden in his now-loose hair, and, still gripping his water skin, his wrapped hands occasionally twitched.

"After we rescue Miyo," Hikoshu said into the ensuing silence, trying to sound positive, "we'll just regroup and come up with a new plan. One way or another, we'll find your tribespeople."

"And Yan-lin?"

"If she knows where your betrothed is, we'll obviously come back for her. But I imagine she'll be long gone before we do."

Even if she was in Tala's custody now, Hikoshu knew she'd easily get out of it. All he could hope was that she wouldn't escape in time to cause them even more trouble. After all, the qu-dan had said that those who betrayed would not betray just once.

They continued on quietly, the hot and heavy air pushing down on them to the point where it was hard to breathe. The tunnel was long, almost endless, and Hikoshu wasn't quite sure where they would emerge. Somehow, though, he would have to find a place he'd only visited a few times. And he would have to do it without them being seen.

It occupied his mind for the rest of the trek.

The first indication they had arrived were branches, each one splitting off to a different part of the Temple. Hikoshu didn't know where any of them went, and chose each turn randomly based on if it seemed to climb higher. As the tunnels were underground, he figured the best decision would be to go up.

Eventually, one of the branches he chose ended in a door. There was no way to see what it opened onto, though. Silently, he brushed a hand over the stone and then signaled for Natquik to stand back. If anyone was on the other side, he would need the waterbender well out of danger and able to attack.

But that was unnecessary. When he bended the wall open, the stone pivoting on a narrow central axis, there was nothing but dim shadows. The first thing he noticed was a smell of dust, stirred up in the drafts created by the secret passage. On either side, there were four or five doors that lined the hallway, and at its very end, opposite him, dim red light streamed from an intersection.

"Storage rooms," Hikoshu whispered, gesturing for Natquik to follow. He moved so that the waterbender could climb the short steps into the corridor, the wall twisting shut behind him, and then slipped to the closest door. This he pushed open carefully, wincing as the hinges creaked, and bended a flame to see the interior.

Odd assortments of ritual items filled the room. Strands of beads, large drums, and hand-bells littered wooden shelves haphazardly, some just scattered on the ground. Embroidered silk cloth lay over chests that probably held rice wine and wood-chips, and over everything was a fine, grayish layer of dust.

"Dig around, see if you can find some ceremony robes," Hikoshu said with little hope that they would. Robes were usually tailored to the Sage; it was rare that extra ones were left in storage. But Natquik was already pulling out items, either out of curiosity or for some other reason. "Be careful. Some of these things are antiques."

"I'll say." He lifted a small copper basin by the lip and scooped out a handful of gray-blue powder, letting it sift through his fingers. "Looks like they're crumbling to dust." Rearing his head back, he sneezed loudly, a cloud of the powder shooting upward.

"That's spark powder, used in the Jade Crown ceremony. And it's highly flammable, so if you could…?" Hikoshu bobbed his flaming hand expectantly. With an apologetic shrug, Natquik replaced the basin and continued searching.

"What's the point of all these things?" he asked after a long pause, bending over to crack open a chest. "Can you really not worship the spirits without them?"

"Well, it doesn't hurt," Hikoshu said defensively as he pushed a couple of willow-brooms away from a shelf. Behind him, Natquik made a triumphant sound, and he turned eagerly.

"Something to drink." He brandished a bottle of ceremonial wine, saluted Hikoshu with it, and jerked at the cork.

"Miyo's life's in danger, and you're wanting to drink?" He had to suppress the creeping irritation in his voice. Again, Natquik shrugged, giving him a moody look.

"I'm thirsty. And there's also this." Reaching back into the chest, he pulled out a long swath of red fabric. What looked suspiciously like a Sage's robe.

"Spirits be praised," Hikoshu muttered, clambering over several drums to reach him.

There were three in the chest, obviously very old. He worried for a moment that they were too antiquated to hide them at all, but upon consideration, he decided they didn't have much choice. Natquik in his ragged Water Tribe garb and he in his burnt layman robes almost guaranteed they'd never make it further than the Central Chamber without questions.

Natquik eventually surrendered the wine, after bemoaning his loss, and found one that was large enough to cover his clothes. A robe for Hikoshu, however, was a little more difficult, as he was a bit taller and more broad-shouldered than the average Sage. He finally settled on one that showed his wrists, forcing him to hide his arms in the wide sleeves.

"These look nothing like the men's robes at the palace," Natquik said at one point, once more trying to wrestle his water-skin inconspicuously below the sash. It wasn't working so well this time, the bladder a huge lump against his stomach.

"They were lower Sages." Hikoshu looked up from his own wide silk belt, then crossed the littered floor to help him with his disguise. "Second-level Sages and below have different robes."

"Then what 'level' are we?" Natquik quirked a dark eyebrow at him as he yanked at the robe, making the waterbender's whole body jerk.

"Um, fourth-level Sages. Give or take sixty years." Really, the robes weren't _entirely _different. The most noticeable features were the lapels, broad and thick, embroidered with a tight stitch in a matching shade of red to mimic tongues of flames. On more current robes, the lapels were usually thin and devoid of decoration. Yet everything else was essentially the same – the same sleeves that flared at the elbows, the same high-neck collar that helped to hide his blue robes, and the same tapered waist that was forcing Hikoshu to seat the bladder firmly on Natquik's back hip.

When he finished, Natquik didn't look impressed. "I can't reach my water-skin."

"Well, that works perfectly, because fourth-level Sages can't waterbend," he retorted, and returned to his search of the chest.

He was in the process of finding a hat to cover Natquik's unbound hair when the walls of the room shook, a deep, rumbling tone vibrating through its items and occupants. Jumping in surprise, Natquik shifted into a waterbending stance.

"An alarm!"

"Morning prayers," Hikoshu corrected, trying hard to calm his hammering heart as the sound rolled through the room again. "They're ringing the Temple bells."

"It's not morning yet." But he still relaxed, his eyes remaining on the door.

"They start before the sun rises. It's a prayer to make sure the sun does just that."

Natquik snorted as Hikoshu pushed a hat on his head, loose fabric from its base covering his ears and neck. "The sun rises whether or not you pray to it."

"How do you know? The Fire Sages haven't missed a day in thousands of years." He managed a grin before his mind moved on to more sobering matters. "But it means the Temple will be crawling with Sages. We're going to have a much harder time getting around without being spotted."

"So instead of being mostly impossible for this to work, it's now just plain impossible." Natquik shrugged, straightening his hat. "I don't see how our chances just got any worse. Can I have the wine back now?"

Hikoshu ignored the request as he peeked out into the still-dark hall. Then, bending out the small lantern they'd been using, he stepped outside. Natquik followed, and the door clicked softly shut behind them.

Even though he knew where they generally were inside the Temple, Hikoshu still didn't have his bearings. He grew up in the Eastern Isles, only visiting the Fire Temple on special occasions or during important festivals. This meant his knowledge of the building's layout was sorely lacking. He knew vaguely where to go from the Central Chamber, so he aimed for that. And the best way to find it was to find some Sages and follow them. In Morning Prayers, they would all be headed toward the Offerings Hall, itself a mere off-shoot of the Central Chamber. As long as they moved with the crowd, they were less likely to stand out.

Upon entering the lit corridor at the end of the hallway, Hikoshu immediately encountered other Sages. They poured in from dormitories somewhere further down the passage, their heads bent with the single-minded focus that only vigilant routine could induce, their eyes on the stone floors and their minds on devotions. In that state of half-consciousness, Hikoshu and Natquik effortlessly blended in.

The old robes also helped in that he could keep track of Natquik. In one moment of panic, he thought he'd lost the waterbender in a sea of red, but his strangely shaped hat stood out several paces away. Not to mention he lacked one essential detail that Hikoshu had overlooked; each Sage had a tan, rice-straw kneeling mat hanging from his right arm, the fabric neatly folded. But it was already too late to go back for one, and so he seized Natquik's mat-less sleeve, navigating them through the crowd.

The Central Chamber was the heart of the pagoda – an octagonal structure dominated by the Statue of Sota. It was the Hall that joined all halls together. The common point of the sprawling Temple. And if Hikoshu remembered correctly, the Tamarin-Shrew Wing was a branch off the Records Hall, itself a branch of the Hall of Standing Lights.

But was it second to Sota's right or left? Sota stood facing the main entrance, his black-stone back toward three of the five branches. In his right hand was the Fire Nation Flame, in the other a sword with the point buried in the marble pedestal – the union of the Temple and the government, and the down-turned blade symbolic of his death.

The Fire Temple was divided along those symbols. Right was for spirituality, wisdom, birth, and the East. It was also the direction the Sages headed, as the first branch to Sota's right was the Offerings Hall. Left, on the other hand, was for strength, memory, death, and the West. And as such, the left side of the Temple was dedicated toward more scholarly pursuits.

They had come out of the hall directly behind Sota, so that there was a branch to either side. He knew he had to take one of them, but the question was, right or left? Right because it contained the Hall of Standing Light and all of its spiritual significance? Or left because of the Records Hall, and all of its historical significance? Hikoshu gravitated toward the statue's base as he contemplated this riddle, his eyes jumping from one branch to the other while Sages continued to stream past.

Natquik was growing restless as they stood below the great statue, and Hikoshu felt eyes on them. Sages were slowing now, the majority having filtered into the Hall. The stragglers were now a lot more awake, and aware that something was off about the two loitering in the Central Chamber. As they paused at the waist-high purification basin, they threw glances back at Hikoshu and Natquik, their attention obviously not on washing their hands.

"Just pick something," Natquik murmured finally, avoiding the gazes of the few men walking past. Shooting him a hooded glower, Hikoshu set off for Sota's left with a fervent prayer he'd guessed correctly.

They had almost reached the branch when a voice reverberated through the chamber, strong and commanding. "You! Sages!" Hikoshu kept walking in the hope that the person was shouting for someone else, but when the man repeated the address, he came to a stop and turned.

Marching toward them, looking a little confused and more than a little indignant, was a Sage dressed unlike the other men, wearing an outer, black vestment that reached his knees. It was a ceremonial covering used by the Five Temple Sages, and Hikoshu realized by the three-tongue flame sigil on his hat that this was, in fact, the Second Sage Baocai.

His stomach jumping up into his throat, Hikoshu tucked his arms into his sleeves and bowed his head, now praying that he wouldn't be recognized.

"Where do you think you're going?" Baocai demanded, stopping before them. Hikoshu snuck a glance to Natquik beside him and saw, thankfully, that he also had his head bowed, one hand keeping his hat in place.

Clearing his throat, Hikoshu tried to make his voice gravelly.

"I'm sorry, Master Second. We're visiting and thought we'd pay our respects in the Hall of Standing Lights before prayer." Baocai studied them both – particularly Natquik – with extreme suspicion, leading Hikoshu to fear he wasn't falling for the excuse.

"What temple are you from?" His tone was stern as he crossed his arms into his sleeves, his large ceremonial hat tilting under the weight of its gold sigil to reveal a bald head above the black tufts of hair at his temples and cheeks.

"The Shiri Temple, Master Second." Was Baocai from the Shiri Temple? Suddenly, he was terrified, certain the Sage would recognize him, or at the very least see through his lie. Sweat sprang up under his arms.

"And where are your mats?"

"We left them in our room." Perhaps, if the Sage was focusing on the kneeling mats, Hikoshu could turn that to their advantage. Once more, he began to take heart. "We'll fetch them immediately, Master Second."

"No," Baocai said so sharply that Hikoshu's hope died. But after several, painful moments, he gave a soft 'humph.' "Standing Lights is next to the Offerings Hall. You'll have ample time to visit after Morning Prayers."

Hikoshu was light-headed with relief, though the feeling faded as he realized that the Sage was not leaving. And wouldn't leave, apparently, until they had made their way to the Offerings Hall. Muttering an apology and his thanks, Hikoshu quickly shuffled toward the doors, his mind racing for some plan to avoid the ritual.

A plan hadn't come to him even after they'd washed their hands and entered the room. The Hall itself was huge, two stories high and nearly as wide. The walls were lined with tall windows, the sky beyond their wooden lattices still dark. But the interior was as bright as day, accented with gold and lit by immense hourglass urns that filled intermittent alcoves in the chamber walls.

The floor was red with the robes of Sages, all huddled on the tan mats that protected their knees. Before them was a marble dais and golden altar, which both sat below a round window resembling the sun, a tiled dragon curling around the circle.

Baocai made another unhappy noise as he signaled two acolytes to pull the doors shut behind them, muttering a quiet, "Find some room on the floor" before he headed for the dais. Hikoshu stood rooted to the spot, hesitant to leave the doors but unable to open them without drawing too much unwanted attention. Desperate, he looked to Natquik in hopes that he had thought of something; the waterbender simply mirrored his frustration.

"How long will this take?" he whispered, leaning close to his ear. Hikoshu shook his head.

"An hour, maybe two. Baocai's very traditional." But they didn't have an hour or two. Soon, news of the fights earlier that night would surface, and someone would notice them. Right now, their element of surprise was based on the fact that whoever had Miyo didn't know the Sages weren't coming back from the palace.

"Can we just leave?" Natquik muttered, and Hikoshu once more shook his head.

"The acolytes will stop us. And they'll have a lot of hard questions I can't answer." He nodded to the red-and-white-robed men standing next to the windows, their arms folded behind their backs. Men who served the Sages until they were taken into formal training – who were most likely destined to military ranks if they did not have a formal teacher by their eighteenth year. Though some of them were obviously far older than eighteen. These were men so dedicated to the spirits that they chose to forego military training for acolyte status. Which often meant they were by far the most zealous in terms of attending rituals.

Hikoshu and Natquik lingered by the doors, long enough that they began to draw suspicious glances from Sages and acolytes alike. Baocai had finally made it to the dais, taking the steps slowly because of his heavy robes, and now stood with his back to the crowd. From that distance, he was nothing more than a blob of black with a bright red hat. Then he slipped to the ground, and as one, the Sages all prostrated themselves on the floor.

It signaled the start of the ceremony – the formal obeisance to the spirits. After a moment, Baocai stood, and the Sages rose to their knees, only for the entire group to once more return to the floor. Three times, they did this, and on the third time, they all remained against their mats.

They murmured a prayer under their breaths – a prayer so engrained in Hikoshu that he murmured it along with them. Unconsciously, his mind began to enter a meditative fog, drawn in by the drone of the Sages. It was only Natquik jabbing him in the ribs that brought Hikoshu out.

"We better sit down," he whispered, and absently, Hikoshu agreed. Kneeling on the cold marble floor, they then prostrated themselves, their arms spread forward, their foreheads resting against the stone.

Just like that, they slipped into the routine of the Morning Prayers. Baocai again stood, and each person slowly sat up, resting his hands on his thighs. The Second Sage then removed a ritual object from the altar – something Hikoshu couldn't identify from that distance but he knew from experience was a bell-shaped basin. And as he presented it to the Sun Window, the Sages all once more fell to the ground.

Suddenly, Hikoshu had a plan.

Baocai was burning paper, discarded the fragments into the basin, though Hikoshu couldn't see anything aside from the reflection of the fire-urns on the marble. But in his mind, he followed the ceremony. This was the sacrifice to the sun, the paper representative of worries, evil, sin – everything that the sun could burn away. And in a moment, Baocai would cover the urn with a silk cloth to trap the smoke and extinguish the fire – symbolic of the sun's daily death.

"Natquik, listen." Hikoshu turned his head slightly, not daring to speak above a whisper. He seemed to hear, though, flashing him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. "When I stand, get up and run for the doors." Natquik's expression was wondering, but just barely, he nodded.

A low, pure note permeated the room, as Baocai struck a bell. Followed by the shake of a hand-bell. And automatically, Hikoshu said the Beseeches under his breath. _We beseech you to rise._

Another toll.

_We beseech you to bring life._

Again.

_We beseech you to give warmth._

Twelve times, it rang, and with each prayer, Hikoshu's pulse quickened. He had to time it right. If he succeeded, there would be enough confusion for them to escape. But only if he hit at the right moment. Nervously, he mouthed the prayers against the stone.

Eleventh toll.

_We beseech you to illuminate._

Twelfth.

_We beseech you to end the night._

The moment the bell faded, Hikoshu flew to his feet. Everyone was prostrate – even the acolytes. It was possible Baocai saw him from his spot on the dais, but he moved swiftly. Drawing his arms back, he then snapped them forward, his fingers sharp and pointed, his weight shifting from his back leg to his front. He felt the _chi_ rip out of the urns, the enormous build-up and release as he snuffed every flame in the Hall with one decisive blow. As if an invisible wind had raced through the chamber and smashed against the fires.

And abruptly, they were all plunged into darkness.

The cries that went up were surprised – and scared. As far as they knew, there was no one in that room strong enough to extinguish twelve man-sized urns at once, and so every thought jumped to a more supernatural source. Confusion filled the black, no one attempting to light a fire as they cowered before the apparent strength of the Night. In that ensuing moment, Hikoshu wheeled for the door somewhere behind him, which just then opened loudly, a thin strip of light flooding the baffled Sages.

He dove through the narrow crevice, nearly hitting a now bare-headed Natquik in the process, and whirled around to airbend the door shut with an even louder crack. On the other side, shouts of confusion seeped past the wood.

Natquik, fortunately, was already working to secure the door, bending purification water from the nearby basin to seal the wood with ice and delay the Sages inside. While he did that, Hikoshu ran for the other side of the great statue, positioning himself so that it stood squarely between him and the Offerings Hall door.

"Stand back!" Hikoshu ordered as he shifted into an airbending stance. He couldn't earthbend, but he was certainly going to make up for it.

Mindful of his friend, he waited for Natquik to move safely out of the way, then sucked in a huge breath. And when he thought his ribs would break, he made himself inhale more. Beyond the statue, he could hear the door shaking under the Sages' combined efforts to escape. Close to shattering Natquik's barrier.

Finally, he let out the breath, using his hands to increase the force of the gale, and it smashed into the statue with a deafening roar. The statue slowly tilted as it groaned, then toppled.

Darting across the room, he slid underneath the statue and twisted, airbending a whirlwind to catch and turn it, mid-air. He put everything he had left into the technique, afraid that anything short of full strength would allow that statue to fall on him. And somehow, it actually worked, the statue jerking to a terror-inducing halt inches above his head. Then, slowly, it spun with the invisible force, as its massive weight shook under the two opposing forces of air and gravity.

Even before it stopped spinning, Hikoshu was already sliding out of its shadow, the wind dissipating gently behind him. A moment later, the statue hit the floor, evincing a loud pop where the marble snapped under its weight. And now on his feet again, Hikoshu turned to face the door, just in time to see Natquik's ice break.

Leaping back to the other side of the statue, he twisted about and swung his arms wide to airbend the stone figure toward the Hall. It screeched loudly across the marble, and cracked the wood where Sota's elbow slammed into the door. But it stayed firm, and the Great Sage Sota came to rest, face up, in front of the Offerings Hall.

Trapping everyone inside.

Natquik stepped back with an impressed grin and a low whistle, ripping off his Sage's uniform to get to his water-skin. "Not bad for a mediocre airbender."

"Not bad for a mediocre waterbender." Hikoshu was winded, for once. Breathing so deeply, and then airbending so powerfully, had drained him. "Did you _have_ to use the purification water?"

And suddenly, his grin dropped into a dry frown. "I checked with the Sun. He said he'd let it slide." Then, adjusting his water-skin along his hip, "Are you sure that's going to hold?"

"Probably not." Hikoshu could already smell burning wood, though he couldn't yet see the smoke. "They'll burn through it eventually."

"So much for subtlety."

"At least we can get to Miyo now." Reminded that they didn't have much time, Hikoshu forced himself to jog for the branch just next to the Offerings Hall. And as they left the Central Chamber, the muffled echoes of two hundred angry, trapped Sages faded away.

He knew they were going in the right direction when they came upon the Hall of Standing Lights. It was straight, lined on both sides with staggered marble shelves, which were themselves filled with red candles. Half were lit, casting dark orange shadows, and old tallow puddled thickly on the floor. These candles were the Standing Lights, each one lit in memory of a deceased Sage.

Hikoshu spared them a momentary glance, wondering which one bore the paper tag of Yojing's name, or if that had burned up long ago. But there wasn't time for him to pay tribute to his master's memory, and within moments, they had already passed through the hallway, the light disappearing behind them.

The Hall of Records was much darker, with only high-set windows providing the meager light of a false dawn – the first sign that morning was approaching. Producing a flame, Hikoshu led them down the passage, ignoring doors on their right and a beautifully decorated ceiling. Once the repository of all knowledge in the Fire Nation, this Hall had been half-destroyed during the Fall of Zinwei. Now those rooms stood empty, the scrolls gone. Just an old reminder of an ancient time.

There was no objective way to identify the next branch as the Tamarin-Shrew Wing, the hall itself completely non-descript. But Hikoshu came to an abrupt stop as they entered it, jarred so painfully by vague memories that for a moment, he almost felt like a teenager again.

It was most certainly the old study hall, the same vine-like woodwork just below the ceiling, the same window-filled wall on the right – though the lattices had been shuttered for the night – and the same door-filled wall on the left. Beyond his fire, the hall was dark, the lanterns extinguished.

Scanning the wall just inside of the corridor, Hikoshu found a fire port, and bended into it. Immediately, the lanterns burst into life one by one, sections of the hallway coming to light with them. Now it was filled with color, the black marble swallowing the firelight, the red cherry doors glowing warmly.

Nothing, though, to indicate that Miyo was there.

"So where do we go now?" Natquik said impatiently, leaning back on one foot to gaze into the passage behind them. Hikoshu was trying to figure that out, too, but unfortunately, his memory wasn't helping him much with which door. He just knew it had to be one of the six.

"We check the rooms," he finally said, pulling off the Sage's robe. If she wasn't in this hall, then he'd have no idea where else to look. And these same disguises wouldn't work again. "Break the doors down."

"You sure we shouldn't try the handle first?" Natquik was snide, but he held up his hands to forestall an annoyed response.

The first door was nerve-wracking. It was locked, as Hikoshu imagined it would be. But even with freezing the lock and hinges, they couldn't break it open. Every attempt echoed through the hall, magnified, as loud as an alarm sounding their presence. Finally, frustrated, Hikoshu airbended a kick into the door, and it gave, groaning as it was half-torn from its hinges.

But inside, it was empty. Nothing but a table filled with scrolls. Part of the wall was covered in a Fire Nation flag, now hanging loose, yet it all looked dusty, as unused as the storage room.

Honing their methods, they got the second door open much faster. Though it was equally empty, if not more so. There was no flag, and the table held an abandoned tea set. Hikoshu only gave it a cursory glance before leaving the room.

The next two doors were surprisingly unlocked, and inside there was nothing. Not even the furniture of the other two rooms. It was as if the study hall had been more or less abandoned in the last ten years, left to collect dust and spider-moths.

"Hikoshu, she's not here," Natquik said in frustration after another unlocked room. "We're wasting what little time we have." Hikoshu was inclined to agree, but he didn't have any plan after this. And besides, they hadn't yet reached the room that he remembered as his master's. At least, he didn't think so.

"Just one more room." There was only one more room, anyway; the one at the very end of the hall, before the intersection of a new hall. He knew the Tamarin-Shrew Wing continued around that corner, but he didn't think the old study would be down there. No, the study was in the branch connected to the Records Hall, he was almost sure. Maybe.

With some small hope and a prayer this would be it, he turned the handle on the last door.

And his whole body sagged as it quietly swung open.

Natquik had been right; if anyone was held captive inside, the door would've been locked. So forcing back his disappointment, Hikoshu created a flame and stepped into the room.

The first thing he saw was a scrap of paper lying on the floor just inside the doorway. Frowning, he stooped to pick it up. And started, both in shock and horror, at what he saw.

A small, scribbled portrait of Yojing, half of his face burned away. But still recognizable as his master, his half-lidded eye staring back sadly.

"What is it?" Natquik was just behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder as Hikoshu straightened. Tucking the page under his belt, he ignored the waterbender and moved further into the room. It _was_ his former master's study. But the table was missing, and the shoji door across from them was obviously damaged, several of its rice paper squares torn out.

"Miyo was here," he murmured, and crossed the floor. Natquik finally saw the door, too, following behind as Hikoshu moved to slide it open. It jerked under his hand, but he pushed it back enough to enter the garden.

And then he stopped so suddenly that Natquik ran into him, the waterbender giving a soft 'oof.' But his attention wasn't on Natquik. Rather, it was on the orange-and-yellow-robed figure in the center of the garden, tied to a tree trunk. Without any light, he couldn't see her face, but her head was slumped on her shoulder, her braids falling over her orange shawl.

Miyo.

"Dear spirits," he whispered, slipping out from under the eaves. Yet before he could get to her, another movement caught his eye, and he shifted quickly into a firebending stance.

It was a Fire Sage, emerging from the eaves of the adjacent veranda, a flame in his hand to cast light on his features. He wore a heavy over-robe, as if he'd just gotten out of bed, and his face was half-hidden under a thick gray beard that stretched all the way to his waist. In his topknot were three long bars of gold, which helped to identify him, even if Hikoshu didn't already recognize him.

It was the Great Sage Himizu.

Natquik had managed to slip past him out into the center of the garden, though instead of assuming a fighting stance, he was now at Miyo's side, pushing her head back. There was a dark gag covering her mouth, and Hikoshu at first feared it was dark from blood.

"I have to admit, you took longer to arrive than I expected," the Sage said, a hand resting casually on the end of his beard.

"Your Eminence." He was overwhelmed. Even though Tala had told them of Himizu's conspiracies, he hadn't yet wrapped his mind around it. Hadn't accepted that the most spiritual, most august Sage in the Fire Nation was his enemy. "You kidnapped the Water Tribesmen?"

Himizu appeared offended. "That's the second time I've been accused of such this evening. An airbender, perhaps, I could understand. But by one of my own Sages, I find it very insulting."

"She's alright," Natquik said, releasing her head. It rolled along her shoulder, lifeless, and Hikoshu doubted Natquik's assessment.

"Of course, she's alright." Again, Himizu had that affronted tone. "I didn't want to hurt the poor girl. I just didn't want her to hurt me, either."

"She's not the one you have to worry about," Hikoshu said dangerously, flames springing around his raised hands. Himizu studied the posture with apparent indifference.

"You would threaten a Head Sage? Honestly, Hikoshu, I expected something more honorable of you."

"Did you want an Agni Kai?"

With a sigh, his shadowed eyes slipped from Hikoshu to Miyo and Natquik, his brow furrowing wearily. "No, but I do feel we need to have a short discussion, before you destroy my Temple any more than you already have." The look he directed at Miyo was reproachful. "I imagine before the end of this evening, there'll hardly be any doors left."

"The only discussion we'll be having is about my tribespeople," Natquik said, bending his water around him in a wreath. "And why you expect me not to kill you after I find them."

Himizu's bearded lip curled in distaste. "Savagery. I'm trying for civil discourse, and you threaten my life. You have much to learn about diplomacy, waterbender, and I'm afraid not much time to do it in. But I assure you, it will be a rough lesson if you continue in such a way."

"The Avatar and a waterbender against one old man." Shrouded by night, Natquik sounded bitterly amused, the water writhing between his palms. "For some reason, I'm not intimidated."

But Hikoshu, for some reason, was. It didn't _feel_ right, the way they stood out in the open, just Miyo and Himizu. There was something they were missing, and wary, he stepped toward his captive friend. "I don't know what game you're playing, Your Eminence. But if you stand in our way, I have no qualms in going over you."

"Game I'm playing." His small smile was nearly lost in his beard, the fire casting strange shadows over his wrinkled face. "Tell me, who is the one who holds the upper hand in Pai Sho?"

The question caught them both off-guard, only silence answering the Great Sage. After a long pause, he continued anyway.

"I'm sure you know, Hikoshu. Yojing told me you have excellent offensive strategy in the game." His voice was casual, as if they were merely chatting rather than having a stand-off. "But for the water savage, I should clarify. Some say it is he who holds the grid." As he spoke, he retreated backwards under the eaves, though he never turned from them. "Others say it is he who has the most pieces on the board."

Gently, Himizu knocked on the wood frame of a garden door with his free hand, his manner still relaxed. "I, however, say it's both. Holding the grid and having the tiles to play. In Pai Sho, it's known as cornering the game."

Behind him, the shoji door slid open, whispering as it revealed a black room. Hikoshu and Natquik both switched their focus onto that darkness, straining to see what might lurk in wait for them there.

Slowly, two people emerged, one standing a head taller than the other, his build much larger. It was difficult to make them out at first, but obligingly, they stepped into Himizu's light. And now, he could see that the taller person was a low-ranking Fire Sage, his hands on the shoulders of the girl in front of him. And the girl…

Hikoshu slowly lowered his arms, his stomach sinking. Indeed, Himizu had the upper hand.

He had the Water Tribe Princess.


	41. Remembrance

**Chapter 40 – Remembrance**

* * *

Yan-lin had only been to the Hall of Waves once, nearly five years ago. It was just a brief tour of the Palace, provided by some minor Fire Nation official and meant to distract her while her father was busy with a general. What they hadn't realized, though, was that – as in all things – her father had a plan for her, and the actions they were aware of were not nearly as important as the ones that they weren't.

Even after five years, Yan-lin remembered the way to the Hall. She remembered it because her father _made_ her remember it. Like he made her remember how to speak the Water Tribe tongue, or how to recall, with exact detail, every word said in a long-winded speech. Like he made her remember the maze of the qu-dan's lair by abandoning her inside, when she was only eight, to find her own way out.

Yes. She had learned to remember.

The hardest part, then, was evading the soldiers, who filtered into the compound with shouts and torches, intent on searching every hole for hidden enemies. Fortunately, they didn't suspect a young girl dressed in an evening robe, and the two times that they found her, she simply pretended to be an innocent spectator. They released her with only a few questions as well as a warning to go back home. Grateful for the darkness that hid the smoke stains on her face, Yan-lin promised to do just that, then escaped to the much quieter military complex.

The Hall itself was empty. At that time of night, with the soldiers on the other side of the Palace and the highest ranking officers in bed, the corridor sat abandoned, even the lanterns extinguished. So she easily saw the double-door at the end of the hall, the thin bright lines of its jambs like a beacon for her to follow.

She didn't hesitate before she knocked, time no longer on her side. But to forestall the occupant's surprise, she called out, "Admiral Kuzon?" Behind the wood, there was a creak and heavy footsteps. Then she blinked in pain as one door opened, bathing her in yellow firelight.

It took a moment to adjust to the brightness of the room, or to make out the dark silhouette in front of her. Kuzon hovered above her head, his thick chest pulling the fabric of his long-sleeved uniform taut, his chiseled face weary and somber. He expressed no curiosity at her arrival, nor any other emotion. Instead, he stood back and waved her in.

"You were expecting me?" Yan-lin asked, puzzled, as she slipped into the room. It was his office, dominated by an enormous desk filled with papers, the walls decorated with gold ship mosaics and a shuttered window. Kuzon looked to be busy, every lamp and candle lit, a messy inkstone sitting near his chair.

"No, but I've had a lot of visitors I haven't expected tonight. Sit." It wasn't a request. Giving him a gracious smile anyway, she seated herself in an empty chair, her eyes scanning the scattered papers as if they would give away some information.

He also sat, and pulled out a clay jar from behind his desk. When he removed the cork, the heavy scent of alcohol drifted toward her.

"Care for a drink? It's some of the finest herb wine I've found, made in your own kingdom." He was already pouring her a cup, also produced from behind his desk, though she shook her head.

"I don't drink _suj_. It's a little strong."

"I think we all need something a little strong tonight." And he set it in front of her, fishing out his own cup. "Didn't have much time to dress?"

"I had a rude awakening." She crossed her arms self-consciously over her red evening robe as he laughed. But his mirth died quickly, and he downed his drink even faster. "I would've cleaned up for an audience with you, Admiral, if I'd had access to a mirror."

"I have a daughter your age. She rarely goes out without 'cleaning up.'" It was a candid admission, and one that made her feel terribly uncomfortable. Examining her soot-stained hands, she searched for a way to change the topic.

But he changed it for her, sobering even as he poured another drink. "The Avatar's here, isn't he?" She merely nodded. Lifting his cup, Kuzon studied the fine details of the porcelain carefully, as if able to ascertain the future from its delicate, painted vines. "He's gone to the Great Sage, then."

"So you knew what His Eminence had planned."

With a shake of his balding head, he finished his second drink. "I knew he had Nizan, as well as the Temples. And I knew that he had _something _planned for the Avatar. But I thought I was one step ahead of him." His eyes closed briefly in reproof of himself. "He controls the nation, but I control the seas. Everything that enters or leaves this island."

"Can you stop what he's about to do?" Perhaps she was too eager, skipping to the point of this meeting so quickly. But time was running short, and she didn't have the luxury of coaxing him into helping.

Unfortunately, Kuzon wasn't comfortable – or drunk – enough yet to follow her thoughts, and his eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "Even if I knew how, I simply don't have the power to."

"But the isolationists-"

"The isolationists are dead!" He cut into her words sharply as he lost his calm composure, his face turning pink both from the wine and from his anger. Still, he poured himself a third drink, and she wondered if she should stop him. "The faction has been dead for years."

Yan-lin fell silent at that, frustration battling with hopelessness inside of her. Certainly, the man in front of her couldn't help her. He'd obviously given up long ago.

A moment later, Kuzon continued, his attention on the small cup hanging loosely between his fingers. "It was different, in the beginning. Back when I was just a commander. The isolationists were a force to be reckoned with, comprising almost all the military. And when the Sages announced that they'd narrowed the Avatar candidates down to four, we were ready. Before the end of the year, we had two of them."

"You were controlling the Avatar candidates?" She couldn't mask her surprise. Grimly, Kuzon nodded.

"Get to them while they were young. Instill in them total loyalty to our country. Teach them to hate all others. It was perfect – with little effort on our part, the Avatar would stay here. And we could guarantee our dominance in the world."

"Other countries have tried to control the Avatar in the past. It always ended in disaster."

"But they didn't have the _motivation_." He frowned over his cup at her, then glanced vacantly at the door. "You're my daughter's age. Meaning you were born well after the sanctions were lifted."

"We remember them in Omashu," she said stiffly, her hands clenching at the reminder of her recent betrayal.

"I imagine you do." Kuzon was obviously unimpressed with her show of nationalism. "But _you_ don't remember them, do you?" It was a rhetorical question, and he set his cup down as he leaned over the desk. "You don't remember what the Avatar did."

"Our economy took years to recover." She tried to keep the offense out of her voice – tried not to rise to the bait. He was challenging her loyalty to her country. To the ideas she had embraced. "I know what the Avatar did."

Kuzon gave a thoughtful 'hmm' and pulled back, his eyes once more to the door behind her. "No one remembers anymore. Not like they used to. Back then, the citizens supported our plan, even if they didn't know what it was they supported. But they _remembered_. We were once a united force."

"You didn't reach the Avatar, though, did you? You chose the wrong children."

Kuzon shook his head. "We couldn't reach all of them. And Kanzagan hid the best candidate well. He put the child under Yojing's care." His fist visibly tightened around his cup at the memory. "Yojing was spared the harsh reality of the sanction, by preference of the Fire Lord, and he didn't understand what we were trying to accomplish."

Yojing. That name sounded familiar. And in a flash of recognition, she recalled Hikoshu's letters. His master, who had known he would die…

"Did you order the murder of Yojing, Admiral Kuzon?"

Kuzon stared at her for a moment, then gave a deep, heaving laugh, throwing back his head. His humor quickly fading, he waved away the suggestion and finished off his wine.

"No, but a nice piece of work that was. By that point, the isolationists were through. Even luring the Avatar back would have failed. So we were scrambling for a new plan while Himizu was completing his own, using Yojing's death to do it." Sighing, Kuzon poured himself a fourth cup. And Yan-lin watched him with apprehension. "Would have been wonderful had it worked, though. May have saved Kanzagan's life."

"Did the Great Sage kill him, too, then?" Even before she asked, he was shaking his head again, his movements becoming erratic.

"Does it matter? Wasn't the military that killed him, that's for sure. We were too devoted, too loyal to our country to do something like that. All I know is that one day he was dead, and Himizu's puppet was on the throne." He nearly snarled the last at the papers on his desk.

"So Himizu is manipulating the Fire Lord." The statement was said in apathy, as Yan-lin's thoughts had already moved on. Even if Admiral Kuzon could help, he'd soon be too drunk to do anything. She had to figure out another way.

But the look Kuzon gave her brought her back to the present, his eyes filled with accusation. "Himizu…and your father." Holding her in his glare, he leaned into the desk as he pushed his cup aside. "General Gi-Luon's been quite a meddler."

"I don't-"

"I really doubt you were ignorant of his plans, so I ask you not to lie about it now." He didn't look to be asking. And Yan-lin shrank away from the heat of his expression, doubly concerned over how much he'd had to drink. "The waterbending master was an old plan, half-abandoned years ago. We'd never fully considered it – never had a chance to implement it before the Avatar was sent away. Yet four years later, Nizan has done exactly what we'd never intended to do. And done it _badly_."

"You're talking about the Water Tribesmen," she said uneasily, her eyes flitting between him and his cup. There was nothing to put between them – no barrier that could protect her. Yet instead of lunging at Yan-lin, Kuzon slumped against his desk, his arms folded along its surface.

"Our original idea was to kidnap a waterbender, and just…" he gestured at the air as if searching for the words, "…cover it up. Blame it on pirates, or someone. Yet for some reason, Nizan decided to kidnap not just a waterbender, but the Water Tribe _Princess_ and her uncle. And with a Fire Navy ship, too."

Unfocused, his eyes narrowed at nothing, and he stabbed the desk with a finger. "I couldn't figure it out. Why would Nizan do something that would inevitably result in war? Why would Himizu let him? I searched for weeks, trying to find out how one of my ships could have been involved without me knowing."

And slowly, his unsteady gaze settled on her. "That's when I found out about your father. He'd been whispering in Nizan's ear for years. Telling him what a good plan it was, how grateful Omashu would be. Saying that Nizan didn't have to do a thing; Gi-Luon would handle it all himself."

Yan-lin bit back the angry retort that was forming despite her anxiety. She didn't point out to him that the plan would have never worked had Kuzon not tried to manipulate Nizan in the first place. How, by telling the then-Fire Prince of the isolationists' intentions, Kuzon had planted the seed of an idea in Nizan's head; the thought that, just maybe, they could train the Avatar in the Fire Nation. Her father had simply exploited that idea when the opportunity presented itself.

"So, I have to ask myself, why?" Kuzon continued, though his speech was growing thick, and he had to lean on his elbows. "Why would Gi-Luon want to start a war between the Water Tribes and Omashu's ally?"

Because it would jeopardize the Fire Nation's stranglehold on the coal trade to the southeast coast, when Omashu was looking to mobilize its abundant lumber supply from the Northwest? Because it would distract a rebounding Southern Water Tribe from Omashu's creeping influence on the Southern Sea Islands? Because it would involve the Northern Water Tribe, which would leave the Northern Air Temple defenseless to the encroaching presence of Ba Sing Se, thus promising their leniency in the matter of the Air Nomad relocation? Because selling weapons and supplies to warring countries always turned a profit?

The question wasn't _why_ he wanted to start a war. The question was, why _wouldn't_ he?

But Yan-lin said nothing. If Kuzon hadn't figured that out, then she wasn't about to tell him what her father's machinations were. After all, that was hardly the point now. The Water Tribesmen were in just as much danger as Hikoshu was, and though her father may have wanted to use them, he didn't necessarily want them dead.

"Where are the Water Tribesmen now, Admiral Kuzon?" she asked levelly. He answered with a snort, crossing his arms on the desk so that he could rest his forehead against them.

"Gone. Nizan sent down an order a half-hour ago, saying he was removing them from the ship. The ship that I'd hoped to see launched tomorrow, the Princess on board and out of this country."

Gone. The revelation rocked her. That was her last hope, when Kuzon had proved to be a failure. If she could have gotten to the Water Tribe members…

But too late now. Himizu already had them.

"Is there anything you can do to stop what's about to happen?" she asked again, allowing a pleading note to enter her voice.

At that, Kuzon looked up from his arms, his reddened eyes glazing over. "I've searched for six years for a way to stop what's about to happen. To keep Himizu from this insane plan to break what the spirits made. You think if I knew the answer to that question, I'd be sitting here getting drunk with you?"

"In six years, you've discovered nothing?" Yan-lin tried to capture his gaze – tried to get him to focus. "Not one thing that might help me now."

Slowly, his eyes did find her, and he regarded her intently for a long moment. Then, with a shrug, he reached across the desk to take her untouched drink.

"Usually, when we benders can't bend, the situation's impermanent. It returns, with time." Sitting up a little, he threw the wine back with a stiff wrist and a sharp grunt.

After a pause to recover from the taste, he wiped his mouth and shrugged blandly once more. "I figure the Avatar's bending probably won't be coming back any time soon. Not until the next in the cycle, anyway. So if you really want to stop Himizu? Really want to fix the mess he's about to make? Well, then. Easy solution for you. The Avatar will probably have to die."


	42. The Water Tribesmen

**Chapter 41 – The Water Tribesmen**

* * *

"Sahani!" Natquik's water had nearly collapsed as he took several steps forward, his voice strangled. The young, dark-skinned girl roused as if from a trance, weak in the grip of the Fire Sage. Even in the dim light, Hikoshu could see the smudges on her face and the dirty, wrinkled state of her gray-blue robes. But she at least looked safe, her dark hair an unkempt halo around her head where it had fallen out of its braid.

Finally noticing him, Sahani furrowed her thin brow in confusion, though it quickly smoothed as she grew animated. "Natquik?" She made to run toward him, but the hands on her shoulders kept her firmly in place.

"Are you alright?" He sounded almost gentle, despite the situation, and she gave an emotional nod.

"Uncle's in worse condition, I th—" She cut off abruptly at a sharp jerk from her captor. Natquik immediately regained control of his water, his glare returning.

"This is insane, Your Eminence!" Hikoshu was still shaken at this new revelation. Still unable to make sense of the surreal scene before him. "You've done something tantamount to war, and for what? Some absurd plan to teach me waterbending?"

"I told you, Avatar, I never kidnapped them. So why would I possibly care if they could teach you waterbending?" Himizu didn't wait for him to puzzle through that, his gaze already back to Natquik, who looked on the verge of attack. "I suggest you take control of your temper, child. The Princess is not the only one of your people in my possession."

"Where's Shaman Kinu?" His voice nearly matched the ferocity of his expression, but he didn't move. And for a moment, the garden was perfectly still.

That was, until a groan from the tree beside them stole their attention. Hikoshu dropped his guard long enough to look to Miyo, who stirred against the bark, her head shifting along her shoulder.

Himizu studied her, too, and grasped Sahani's arm. "Tzan, take care of the airbender."

Sahani's captor looked at him in surprise, as if shocked anything more was expected of him. Then, hesitantly, he nodded, and started across the grass. Both Natquik and Hikoshu moved to block him, but Himizu gave Sahani a rough shake, eliciting a gasp from her.

"I already have two hostages. Do you honestly want to try my patience?"

Hikoshu wasn't about to let that stop him, but the distraught look on Natquik's face as the waterbender retreated made him do so, as well. Himizu had already said he wouldn't hurt Miyo; there was no sense risking others just to keep her a few feet away from the Sages.

Eyeing them warily, Tzan stooped and untied her from the tree. A moment later, he'd thrown her over his shoulder, her hands and legs bound by concealed ropes, her body swaying limply. The movement shook her awake, though, and as he made his way back to Himizu, Miyo lifted her head to stare at Hikoshu from behind a curtain of braids.

When her eyes finally focused on him, she visibly jerked against Tzan's shoulder. But with the gag still in her mouth, all she could do was struggle in his grip, her words unintelligible beyond the cloth.

"Now," Himizu continued as Tzan returned to his side and dropped Miyo heavily on the ground, "to answer your question, I'll be happy to take you to the Shaman. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. But before we leave, I'll need your water pouch."

"You really think we're going anywhere with you?" Hikoshu couldn't help but scoff. "You actually expect us to trust you?"

"I honestly don't care if you trust me." Himizu arched his brows in bland surprise. "But I'm not giving you much of a choice, either." He turned again to Natquik. "If you don't mind, waterbender."

Natquik did look like he minded, but obediently, he bended his water back into its skin and tossed it at the Sage's feet. "Fine. I got about ten ways of killing you without water, anyway."

Himizu didn't even acknowledge the threat. "Avatar, there's a patch of sweet-ash ferns in the center of those trees. I want you to burn it away." At such a strange request, Hikoshu could only stare at the Great Sage. But Himizu tugged on Sahani's arm to make his point, and Hikoshu grudgingly complied.

The ferns were thick, their usually gray leaves washed blue in the light of an approaching dawn, wide enough to cover the large space between the trees. Yet as he set the plants afire, his mind half on how to direct those flames at the Sages without hurting the girls, Hikoshu quickly realized there was something under the leaves.

A stone circle, with another circle imposed in its center, bearing the Fire Nation flame. The light of the burning plants caught against the metal gold of the symbol, and Hikoshu glanced back at Himizu.

"Stand in the center," he said, Natquik's water skin now slung over his shoulder. "Bend into the port in the ground."

When Hikoshu did that, the earth rumbled under the garden, and the stone – with hesitant, rusty groans – slid away from the center circle to reveal a staircase. It spiraled down into darkness, lost to Hikoshu's vision, and he had to marvel. All those times he'd looked out on this garden, never once suspecting a secret room existed underneath it. With wonder, he pushed himself to his feet.

"You and the waterbender go first," Himizu said, gesturing with the flame in his free hand. "The Shaman is below."

Though Hikoshu wanted to refuse, the truth was that Himizu was right. So long as the Great Sage had hostages, Hikoshu had no choice. It was possible that he could bend fast enough to save one of them, but he wasn't sure if he could rescue both. And with another hostage somewhere else, his situation even less certain, Hikoshu was hesitant to try. Right now, he just needed to stall for time. To wait for someone to make a mistake that he could take advantage of.

So he started down those stairs with Natquik following, and bended a flame to guide their way. After they'd gone about ten steps, Himizu and Tzan appeared behind them, Miyo once more over Tzan's shoulder. Tied as she was, she was helpless, unable to bend.

Hikoshu wondered briefly why she wasn't struggling, worried that she'd again been rendered unconscious. Though he then realized that she didn't have much choice, either. If she had caused Tzan to fall down the stairs, she might've ended up hurting them all. So she remained motionless against his neck, and they traveled in silence as Hikoshu searched for a plan.

"Let the Princess go," Natquik said at one point, his strained voice reverberating against the stone. "You have Miyo, you have the Shaman, you have me. Why do you need anyone else?"

"Let her go where?" Himizu treated the demand with casual disinterest. "Her Highness is in no immediate danger. Most certainly, she's safer in my charge than she'd be if she were lost in the city. And I imagine you would want to keep your intended within sight."

"Natquik, please don't leave me." The young girl's words were weak, tremulous. As if afraid she really would be abandoned. "I have to find Uncle."

"It's alright." Again, Natquik sounded soothing, and Hikoshu finally hazarded a glance back to see the waterbender paused on the steps, turned toward her. "We're staying together." Himizu and Tzan also stopped, and the Great Sage ushered him on sharply.

"Keep moving, waterbender. We're almost there."

"What's the point of any of this?" Hikoshu protested, pressing a hand against the spiraling wall to keep his bearing. It felt greasy under his fingers, the wall slick with old dew. "You say you didn't kidnap the tribesmen. So why do you have them? What do you want with us?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" There was genuine surprise in his voice. "Surely, I thought you would. After all, your airbender friend came to the right conclusion almost immediately, and she wasn't even the one who went with you to see the qu-dan."

That statement made so many realizations flash through Hikoshu's mind that he was grateful his hand was already on the wall. His flame wavered as his concentration broke, and he halted on the step, the stairwell forgotten.

But the sudden understanding that Himizu was the one who wanted to take his bending wasn't nearly as painful as the realization that Yan-lin had most certainly told him how.

This was her betrayal.

"Go on, Hikoshu." Himizu's voice now held a note of kindness – even sympathy – that jarred unpleasantly with the horror he was feeling. "I'll explain it all at the bottom."

There was nowhere else to go but down, and Hikoshu forced himself to move. Forced himself to ignore the sense of doom that had seized him, even as his mind ran through the half-remembered riddles in one last, desperate attempt to decipher them.

But then they were leaving the stairwell to enter a tall, wide corridor, its high walls lit with lanterns just below its curved ceiling. Those walls were barren – nothing but gray stone and red lamps. The only notable feature was a double-door at the far end, as large as the hall itself. It was decorated with five dragons, their silver bodies writhing along the wood, their heads jutting from the surface in realistic snarls. Down the center jamb was an ivory scroll, bearing characters.

_To forget is to live again._

"The door is sealed," Himizu said behind him as they all six came to a stop before the portal, "opened only by five firebenders or a fully realized Ava—"

Hikoshu interrupted him with a furious growl, borne out of the fear and helplessness that churned in him, and they only had a moment to step back. Jumping forward, he slammed his fist through the air in front of the door, then followed with a strong kick. Fire erupted from both limbs, intense enough to swamp the hall, bathing them in light and heat. The wood could hardly hold up against such an onslaught, and creaking, it broke along the ivory scroll to crash against the walls on the other side.

Hikoshu extinguished the remnant flames with a wave of his hand and entered the room.

"I suppose we can replace that along with the other doors you've destroyed tonight," Himizu noted dryly as the group followed him. Hikoshu ignored the quip, already searching the contents of the room for the other hostage.

It was a mess, filled with rows of shelves that reached the ceiling, cluttered with nothing but scrolls. A _lot_ of scrolls, some falling apart, some lying in the floor. A library of some sort, though it looked like no one had used it in years. The room itself formed a cross, two of its branches out of view but likely holding even more shelves. The alcove directly across from them was dominated by an enormous mongoose dragon statue, its empty gaze focused on the air as it curled around an obsidian tablet. Hikoshu thought there was writing carved into the volcanic glass, but the branch was too dark to make it out.

In the center floor of the cross was a circle of marble, and in the center of that sat two bronze chairs, high-backed and wide. Hikoshu looked up to see a brightly colored caisson above the chairs, its round surface decorated with green-and-silver geometric designs that surrounded a coiled dragon. From the dragon's mouth hung an intricate quartz-crystal chandelier, the light of its candles dancing off the prisms. The effect threw shimmering spots against the shelves, creating an almost whimsical scene in a room occupied only by scrolls and stone beasts.

"There's no one here, firebender," Natquik said with disgust, and Hikoshu turned to see him facing the Sage. His hand twitched near his hip, where his water skin would have been.

Himizu stood several paces away from him, his grip tight on Sahani's small shoulders. "After Hikoshu's entrance, I imagine they'll be out at any moment."

As if on cue, the room vibrated with a second door opening, and from the left branch another short-sleeved Sage emerged, tugging along an elderly man in the same, dirty Water Tribe blue as Sahani. His robes were cinched with a leather belt that had once held a row of bone ornaments, though now most of them were missing. Behind him, his hands were securely tied, though his legs – unlike Miyo's – were still unbound. Also unlike Miyo, he had no gag. But he was blindfolded, the fabric holding back both his tangled gray hair as well as his long eyebrows, which almost reached the edge of the scruffy beard he'd grown in the last two months.

"Shaman Kinu!" Natquik said, just as Sahani shouted, "Uncle!"

The Shaman's head turned slightly at the sounds of their voices, his mouth slipping into a frown. "Natquik? What are…?"

"Uncle, they've captured him!" Sahani interrupted, her expression panicked. "And they have the Avatar!" Himizu let her speak freely, apparently not bothered about the information she'd revealed.

Kinu, however, grew visibly disturbed, his head jerking in the direction of her voice. "Where are we?"

"We're in the Hall of Contemplation," Himizu said, pulling Sahani with him as he moved toward Kinu and his captor. Next to them, hidden beside a shelf, was a small wood stand, holding a tea pot and several cups. This was what he headed for, releasing Sahani's arm long enough to pour himself a drink. "A chamber hundreds of years old."

Now free, Sahani hesitated, unsteady on her feet. Then abruptly, she dove across the room, and Hikoshu thought for a moment she would run for the broken doors. Instead, though, she threw herself into Natquik's arms, who caught her against his chest, clasping the back of her head. He held her briefly, but then he was yanking her away from him, murmuring something under his breath which Hikoshu suspected was an appeal for her to escape. The terrified look she wore declared that she wasn't going anywhere without him.

Again, Himizu was unconcerned, offering a drink silently to Hikoshu. He stared at the cup with undisguised revulsion.

When it became apparent that he wasn't going to take it, Himizu shrugged and placed the refused cup back on the stand. "I hate using hostages." His thick eyebrows crinkled in pain, and he massaged his temple. "It's exhausting, always wondering just how much the other party is willing to risk to save itself. And you, Avatar, are surprisingly hard to predict. Just how selfish are you?"

"You murdered my master," Hikoshu spat, the air around him growing hot with his rising temper. "I don't imagine you have qualms about sacrificing others."

"I murdered Yojing? Truly, you think I'm so base." Himizu had the gall to look offended. "I don't murder people, Hikoshu. But if some have to be removed for the greater good, well…you should know all about that, Avatar."

Hikoshu could almost see the heat waves coming off his own skin, feel his mind grow foggy. Was it the Avatar State? With creeping dread, he pulled back from his anger.

"You don't, though, do you?" Himizu set his cup down, rubbing his hands together before he once more started toward Sahani. "Yojing made it a rule of his, never to study the past. I suppose he always thought that, as the Avatar, you should learn from _your_ life and not theirs."

Hikoshu ignored him, trying hard to focus his mind away from his emotions. The Avatar State might hurt more than just the Sages. Kinu, still in the grip of the unidentified man. Miyo, who leaned heavily against Tzan, her expression tortured above the gag. Natquik, clutching Sahani under one arm. No, he couldn't afford to take that chance.

"Yojing was an optimistic fool," Himizu continued, stopping just short of Sahani. Natquik hid her behind him, as if he could keep the Great Sage at bay with just his glare. "His sights always on the future, never realizing that what we don't remember will come back to us again." The smile he directed at Sahani had no humor. "Such as now."

Hikoshu's head followed Himizu, but he didn't turn away from any of the other Sages, his body tense. "You made your own boat, Your Eminence! Don't blame history if it's starting to take in water."

"No, Hikoshu, I'm blaming _you_." He held up a hand, gesturing toward the scroll-filled shelves all around them. "These scrolls are what were left after the Fall of Zinwei – the entire repository of our nation's history before the Fall. You've never seen them, of course. No one cares about some dusty old scrolls, or what they contain."

"Nor do I care now."

The response made Himizu smile grimly. "No. But you should know why I'm doing this. Perhaps you'll even understand."

"None of this could make sense!" Natquik interjected, Sahani peeking from behind him. "You're messing with the will of the spirits, Sage, and it's a dangerous business."

Himizu didn't even register the protest, his eyes lingering on the Princess. "Forty years ago, the Northern Water Tribe declared war on the Fire Nation."

"Because you _stole_ our princess." Kinu's voice was scratchy, yet it echoed through the room, deep and strong. "Tell the full story, Sage."

"But you did nothing." Again, Himizu acted as if he hadn't heard a word, and he returned his gaze to Hikoshu. "A merchant ship was attacked at Rajio Bay, the crew slaughtered—"

"We never attacked. I was there!"

"—but still you did nothing. Then the Western Air Temple was massacred—"

"By Fire Nation soldiers. Mention that." It was a bizarre exchange, the two elderly men fighting over a history that they'd both lived through, Kinu struggling to be heard while Himizu ignored him. Yet Hikoshu could see the Great Sage's ire grow with every word, his forehead drawing into a scowl.

"And where was the Avatar in all of this? Did she choose to stop the fighting before it escalated? No, Hikoshu. She didn't meddle, because she saw that the Fire Nation had made no provocation for war. You _stated_ that national politics were beneath you, Hikoshu. You chose not to fight."

"And you want to take my bending because I didn't ever use it?" It was absurd, and if the mood hadn't been so deathly serious, he might've laughed.

"No, you did eventually use it." Now Himizu's gaze was on Miyo, who fought to keep on her unbalanced feet, her arms twisted painfully behind her. Tzan was oblivious to her struggle, his dull face set in indifference. "After the massacre, you declared that we as a nation had committed a crime for which there was no suitable punishment. A crime that wasn't even ours to begin with! There was no trial, no questions asked. You said it was so, and so it was."

"Sidhari was too lenient on you for what you did," Kinu said darkly. "You deserved far worse."

Himizu gave the Shaman a deadly glare, though he pressed on. "Sidhari set up sanctions against us. Do you know what the Avatar's sanctions were, Hikoshu?"

"Barriers of earth." He knew it, even if he didn't know how. Perhaps a memory from the Temples, or from his childhood. Or maybe something much earlier. "Raised around each island. And a chasm around Omashu."

"An island nation that has traded for centuries, suddenly unable to trade." Himizu's brow furrowed with the sad memories, and he shook his head. "It nearly destroyed us. We, as a country, sunk so deep that we feared there was no way to return. Only this island remained untouched by its effects."

"That was forty years ago, Sage," Natquik said. Sahani had worked her way under his arm again, and he held her close, taking small steps backward toward the door. And though he knew he wouldn't, Hikoshu half-hoped he would try to run with her. "If you can't move on from it, I don't think it's the Avatar who has the problem."

"No," Himizu said, finally recognizing the tribesmen's attempts to argue. "No, this is exactly about moving on. The Avatar, with so much power, dictates our lives. And when the Avatar makes bad choices, we all pay. It would be so much simpler if you weren't a constant presence. If we were free to make our own mistakes."

Natquik was incredulous. "So you can slaughter an entire culture? So you can kidnap foreign royalty and get away with it? The Avatar exists for exactly this reason. To keep men like _you_ from dragging this world into chaos!"

"The Avatar _brought_ chaos!" Himizu looked to Natquik, quickly losing his collected demeanor. "They say without the Avatar, we would destroy ourselves. But every cycle, we survive twenty years without him. Why not forever?"

"The Avatar is not just for us. He's our connection to the spirits!"

"Spirits didn't kill the airbenders, boy. Nor did they starve our people." Himizu seemed to be through with arguing, his frown settling on Sahani. "Your Highness, I'd ask you to join me. For everyone's sake."

In response, Natquik shoved her behind him once more, and she clung to his waist. "She's staying with me."

"Natquik, get her out of here!" Hikoshu didn't hide his frustration. "Just go and let me handle the others." Natquik's eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, he may have seriously considered it.

But then Himizu spoke again, crushing his chance to escape. "Tzan, for every step they take toward that door, break one of the airbender's fingers. And if she runs out before they get away, move on to the Shaman's."

Tzan nodded, and adjusted his grip on Miyo so that he could seize her hands. Her eyes swam with alarm as she jerked her body against his hold, her hair floating about her on a feeble wind that she could barely even produce.

"Stop!" Natquik shouted with the same amount of panic, though he didn't release Sahani. And for one tense moment, they all stood facing each other, waiting to see who would react first.

Then Sahani slipped out from behind him, easily avoiding his hands as he grabbed for her. Her dark skin almost pale with terror, she made her way back to Himizu, who gave her an unhappy – but grateful – smile.

"I appreciate Your Highness' consideration of the gravity of this situation. A true reflection of hidden wisdom." She didn't look at all pleased by the compliment, returning to her spot beside him with an agonized frown, her wide blue eyes solely on Kinu.

The matter now cleared up, though, Himizu once again looked to Hikoshu. "The fact is, we've come to the heart of this entire ordeal. To the reason why you're here, as well as I."

"If it's only between us two, then why hold them?" Hikoshu held his arms wide in surrender. "Why do you need hostages to keep me detained? Let them go and just be done with it. I'm not fighting."

"And give you opportunity to enter the Avatar State? Intriguing, but no. Besides, the hostages aren't for you, Hikoshu." Gently, he once more took Sahani's arm, his amber eyes locking on Natquik. "They're for you."

"Unless you're wishing for an ice shard through your chest, I have nothing you want." Though his words were angry, Natquik didn't have the same fire in him as earlier. To everyone in that room, the threat was empty.

"On the contrary, savage. You're exactly what I want." Himizu pulled Sahani close to him as he idly scanned the shelves of scrolls across the room. "See, you're what I've been looking for, these past twenty years. All that time, spent searching cellars and dusty libraries, seeking a ritual to remove Hikoshu's bending. But what I never realized was that I needed a waterbender." His gaze returned to Natquik. "And spirits be praised, just like Hikoshu, you came straight to me."

"You've been misinformed, Sage." Natquik's voice was flat and hard, not nearly as sharp as his stare. "Waterbenders can't rob people of their bending abilities."

"Perhaps not waterbenders," Himizu agreed, shooting a glance to the bound Shaman listening to every word. "But you can. Most powerful waterbender alive, are you not?"

For once, Natquik didn't seem flattered by such a statement, recoiling as if slapped. "You've been misinformed."

"Explain to me how healing works. After all, you aren't a very good waterbender. But you're a _very_ powerful healer. So take me through the process." When Natquik didn't answer, Himizu pursed his lips, lifting his eyes to puzzle through it himself. "Using water, you direct a person's _chi_ to the injury site, something like that. But what does _chi_ also provide, rather than life?"

Again, he didn't answer, but Hikoshu was already figuring it out for himself. _Chi _was also the source of bending. And if Natquik could manipulate _chi_ in the body…

So was this the betrayal that the qu-dan spoke of? Was Natquik the solution to the riddle all along? He looked askance at the waterbender, who had not moved an inch, not even changing his stare. But he knew that Natquik was having the same thoughts as he.

"Oh, spirits, no," Sahani breathed as it dawned on her, as well, and she sagged against Himizu's grip.

"What you're asking is beyond the scope of waterbenders." Kinu's deep, commanding voice broke through the restless silence. "We can't destroy the flow of _chi_ without killing the person, and it's expressly forbidden in our culture."

"Which tells me that the only reason it's impossible is because it's never been attempted," Himizu mused. "Perhaps a very skilled healer would be able to accomplish it and save the person, as well. But if he couldn't, no matter. It'll give us sixteen years to find something else." This sent Miyo into a struggling fit, her cries muffled under her gag. Tzan, finding it hard to hold onto her, yanked upward on her bound arms.

"I won't do something like that," Natquik said, losing his calm. "It's an unforgivable act."

Himizu frowned at him impatiently. "I have three hostages, Natquik, and you have two choices. You can either decide to do this, or you can decide which one dies first. Afterward, I'll let you determine which act was 'unforgivable.'"

The idea overwhelmed Hikoshu, his mind unable to grasp what was about to happen. But Natquik seemed to have some concept of Himizu's request, his eyes falling briefly closed with the horror of it.

"Even if I do this, I won't know _what_ to do. Kinu is right – it's impossible. You can't separate _chi_ from life."

"Then don't separate it. You have a chance of keeping Hikoshu alive. With your bending ability, surely that's possible. But I guarantee that any one of these three people will not survive my disappointment."

"Natquik," Hikoshu said lowly to draw his attention. The waterbender looked at him miserably, torn between his morality and the prospect of being responsible for someone's death. "You need to do this. If something happens to Miyo, I'm not sure any of us will make it out alive." Only his own fear kept him from slipping into the Avatar State at the moment. If Miyo was hurt, he doubted anything save death would keep him out.

With a hesitant glance toward Sahani, Natquik moved closer to Hikoshu, speaking under his breath. "You don't understand." His voice shook, and Hikoshu realized his hands were shaking, too. "I would literally be ripping your life out of you. It is not a good way to die."

His stomach flipped unpleasantly at that revelation. "Stop trying to talk me into it," he muttered sarcastically, quelling his anxiety. "Just do it. Whether or not I die, you'll all go free."

Miyo's struggles had become more desperate, and she shouted so loudly against the gag that they both looked up. Furiously, she shook her head, her hair once more floating around her.

"I said stop it," Tzan sighed as he fought to keep a hold on her, and cuffed her along the back of her neck.

The action threw Hikoshu into a momentary panic, and it was only Natquik's arm across his chest that restrained him.

"Fine, I'll do it!" Natquik shouted at Himizu. "Just…don't hurt them." He then turned his back on Miyo, who despite Tzan's threat continued to fight him. The Great Sage gave him a warning glare, though, as Tzan raised his hand to strike again. Fortunately, he obeyed the silent order.

"You'll want to sit down." Natquik pushed him toward one of the empty chairs. In his touch, Hikoshu could sense his uncertainty, as well as his fear. Natquik had no idea what he was about to do, but he'd do it just to help them. The thought made Hikoshu feel both grateful and terrified. Grateful that he was willing to do whatever it took to save Miyo. Terrified of the very same thing.

"This is futile, Sage," Kinu said, his voice steeped in the same nervousness that Natquik obviously felt. "What do you hope to achieve by this? Even if you incapacitated the Avatar, there's no guarantee it'll affect the cycle. And next time, you won't have a waterbender like Natquik to fix your problem for you."

"To be sure," Himizu replied as Natquik urged Hikoshu down into the chair. "I was told that this won't be the ultimate solution. But it gives me decades to search for a more permanent one. To show the world that this is the solution they want, too. And if, by some chance, this _is_ a mistake as you all so quickly claim, then impermanence is exactly what I want."

"You'll step out of this disaster and into the next one," Kinu persisted, though Natquik no longer listened to him. And Hikoshu was also finding it hard to pay attention, as the waterbender removed the sash from Hikoshu's waist to rip it into two. "The Water Tribes will not stand for this, whether or not there is an Avatar."

Himizu was somber. "I know."

"Bite down on this," Natquik murmured, pulling a scroll off its bone roller. Hikoshu took the wand with apprehension, trying to meet his eyes for some reassurance. Yet Natquik studiously avoided looking at him as he worked, tying Hikoshu's left arm firmly to the chair. He then pulled the front of Hikoshu's robes open, exposing his chest to the warm air of the room, and, anxious, Hikoshu dropped the roller into his lap.

"If I suspect any duplicity," Himizu suddenly said, causing Natquik to hesitate, "and that the Avatar can still bend, I'll be sure to put him to a test that you'll both regret." Natquik's blue eyes finally met his, and Hikoshu could tell from the disappointment in them that it had actually crossed his mind.

"I'm going to need my water," he said coldly, but he didn't look away from Hikoshu. "And I want Sahani out of here. She doesn't need to see this."

"Natquik, no!" Her protest was almost a breathy wail. "I can't leave! Please don't make me leave!"

Himizu assuaged her fears. "No one can leave this room until it's done. Not until I know for sure. But you'll have your water."

Natquik visibly failed at the denial of his request, his shoulders slumping. It was his last effort to save Sahani, and now everything was out of his hands. Yet somewhere within that helplessness, Hikoshu also sensed desperation. Natquik couldn't control the situation, but the severity in his gaze implied that he was willing to try.

"Don't," he whispered, grabbing the waterbender's elbow. "Miyo has to get out of here alive. You have to do this for her."

Natquik's eyes fell closed, his brow twitching with some unseen battle. Only when his water skin hit the marble next to them did he look at Hikoshu again, and his expression held a hint of defeat. Wearily, he retrieved the bladder from its puddle, half of the water spilled out.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said under his breath as he bended the water into an ice knife. Hikoshu couldn't tear his eyes from the blade, his chest heaving as Natquik honed the edge. "I can't say how long it will last, or how long until it starts to hurt. But it will hurt, Hikoshu."

"Just stop talking." He had to get his breath under control, before he passed out. Yet some part of him thought that maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Nodding, Natquik slid his finger along the blade, and then with a swift jerk of his wrist, he sliced it up the center of Hikoshu's chest.

The pain lasted for a moment, the cut just deep enough to bleed freely. But to Hikoshu, in his heightened sense of anxiety, it felt like he'd been stabbed. Hovering over him, Natquik left the ice as a fist-sized ball in his lap and moved to secure his right arm.

"Last chance," he mumbled, yanking the sash tight. "If you want to fight, I will. I'll die trying to get us out of this room. But I won't do it without you."

"Natquik, I'm sorry." He swallowed hard, trying to get his throat to work correctly. "This scares me. But I'm even more scared to fight."

Natquik met his gaze one last time with a doleful frown. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too." Then, sighing, he pulled the bone wand from his lap.

"You can do this without killing me," Hikoshu whispered with an unconvincing smile, before he could shove the bone between his teeth. "I always wanted to know how healing was a measurable talent."

"Believe me," Natquik said, lodging the wand in his mouth. "You won't want to survive this." He then bended the ball of ice back into water, wrapping it around his hand as he cupped his palm over the thin cut. Hikoshu, in turn, winced, yanking back from his touch as if burned. But there was nowhere to go. Trapped.

The waterbender tilted his head to the side, though his attention never left Hikoshu's chest. "Sahani, close your eyes! I don't want you looking until I say it's alright." More softly, he murmured, "Forgive me, Hikoshu." And, pressing his weight down on his shoulder, Natquik began to bend.


	43. The Nature of Bending

**Warnings: **there's violence in this chapter, and while not very graphic (not enough for an M rating), it's certainly the most graphic in the story. Those with _extremely_ sensitive constitutions are forewarned. You'll see it coming from a mile away, so just skip to the end once you hit it, if it's not your cup of tea.

* * *

**Chapter 42 – The Nature of Bending**

* * *

_Chi_. _Sila_. Energy. A thousand words to encompass it, though nothing came quite close to describing it. It was the animating force – the world's breath, the composition of all life, the substance of all material. But to Natquik, it was simply what it was. Something that had been a familiar presence to him since he was a child, both inside others and in himself. He followed it in his mind's eye like shining silver streams, coursing through the arteries, the nerves – bathing everything, nourishing, protecting.

There was more than one kind of _chi_ in the body,though not many outside of a studied healer would notice or care. For most people, it was enough to know that _chi_ kept them alive and allowed them to bend. And even for those who practiced the healing art, only two or three forms were important, as those were all they could manipulate.

Natquik, however, could manipulate all twelve.

That was his strength in bending. The skill that set him apart. There was no nature of _chi_ so subtle that he could not touch it, nor any pathway too concealed for him to reach. In reality, he'd rarely ever used the extremes of his gift. Those hidden depths of _chi_ controlled aspects of the human mind and body that he didn't feel comfortable redirecting, the questionable morality too much for a man who admittedly had little introspection.

Yet this was exactly what he'd been asked to manipulate, even if the men in that room didn't understand what they were asking.

Fortunately, their ignorance allowed Natquik to take his time. And the introspection he'd never practiced was now suddenly shoved on him, his eyes closed in concentration as his thoughts raced through all the esoteric knowledge he never thought he'd need to use.

_Chi_ was essential for life. It was the inherent energy that _drove_ life, and removing it was impossible. Even non-benders had energy, though they were incapable of directing it beyond their own bodies. Still, all humans were 'benders,' so to speak – some simply had more skill than others. So how to make Hikoshu a non-bender? How to change the very manner in which he controlled his own _chi_? Was it even possible?

It had to be. Natquik knew of the special points that, if injured, would result in paralysis, as well as an inability to bend. Unfortunately, interrupting the _chi_ in such a way was usually impermanent – and if somehow made permanent, it was invariably fatal. Besides, Natquik didn't know the techniques to injure those special points.

Of course, he wouldn't. He was a healer.

Even as he skimmed absently through the different pathways and associated diseases, Natquik focused on the scene playing out around him. If he didn't succeed in removing Hikoshu's ability, someone might die. But if he tried something blindly, Hikoshu would die. His frustration grew each time he came to the same conclusion – that someone wouldn't survive this – and he had to force himself to stay calm.

Right now, everyone was fine. Hikoshu, his heart pounding so powerfully that it made Natquik's hand bounce, was not yet in pain. His panicked breaths made his _chi_ surge along his veins, and its usual, ghostly light now shone like the moon on the sea. But it was steady, strong, and unchanged.

And it would remain unchanged. Helplessly, Natquik finished filing through the meridian points – even the seven pools along the spine that could under no circumstances be touched – and decided that he couldn't break the _chi_ without corrupting the blood. No. There was no way to change how he controlled his _chi_. A bender could not be made a non-bender. As far as he knew, Natquik had reached the limit of his capabilities, his gift unable to help in something as transcendental as this.

Yet maybe his mistake was in looking to _chi_ for the solution. There was more to healing than just the flows – something else that many waterbenders could overlook, as these were issues beyond the scope of water-healing. They were the fluids, the organs, the essences. And most importantly, the spirit.

The Avatar was never a non-bender. Every cycle, the Avatar Spirit was born into a body that was capable of bending more than one element. But no other body could manipulate anything beyond the spiritual element of its native land. So could it be that bending was tied to the spirit? That _chi_ was simply a manifestation of the rules that the spirit had set forth? Natquik didn't know much philosophy. After all, he was never meant to be a great thinker. Thus the concept of the spirit was only familiar to him in the context of healing. And in healing, the spirit was only meant to be treated by external techniques.

Could he do something _internal_, though? No. That'd be a crime for which there was no punishment. More than killing Hikoshu, he might very well destroy his soul. Breaking a man with waterbending was against all cultural mores dictated in the Water Tribes. Breaking the spirit itself was beyond comprehension.

But there were five spirits that he knew of – five spirits, situated in five different 'locations' of the body. Perhaps one of them could be affected without affecting the others. And then Hikoshu would be safe…right? Which one, though? Not the heart spirit. Natquik was certain of it; that was _the_ spirit. The one that defined Hikoshu's consciousness. Nor could it be the lung spirit, for that defined Hikoshu's physical person.

The liver spirit. The house of the blood. Yes, that was it. The spirit that lived on after death. Surely, the Avatar Spirit would be there, or at least the connection would exist through it. Carefully, Natquik perused the meridians as he considered the possibility.

Destroying it would be devastating – not just to the Avatar cycle, but to Hikoshu himself. It was the source of his compassion, his humanity. To maim it would result in apathy, possibly even anger. Not to mention that it provided defense against all kinds of pain, both physical and mental. If it were touched, Hikoshu could very well die in the resulting agony.

Nor could Natquik manipulate something as intangible as a 'spirit.' It was, of course, not tied to water flows the same way as _chi. _He wasn't even sure how it could be seated inside the body. Perhaps, though, if hew knew how the _chi_ flowed around it, he could at least examine it. After all, he could no do harm in simply looking. With weak resolve, he set about finding the spirit in the liver.

And the only way he knew to do that was through meditation. As he released himself onto the paths of _chi_, Natquik cleared his thoughts, letting his mind run with the ebbs and flows. He stopped searching and just moved as the energies pulled him.

Hours possibly passed before he found it, maybe less, maybe even more. Like eyes acclimating to a dark room, his mind slowly acclimated to the different energies that made up Hikoshu. Then it was there. The _anirniq, _the _hun. _A _presence_, rather than a form, indescribable even in his imagination. What he could 'see' were the paths of _gan_ _chi_ that circled it. They didn't pulse, as he would have expected in the more material spirits. Instead, they seemed to gain strength, almost as if they fed off this indefinable concept.

Suddenly, he knew he was in the right place. Knew it, just like he knew how to bend without understanding what bending was. This _chi_ was the right form of _chi_ – this blood had the right character. This was the higher spirit.

With the realization that Natquik had found what he was looking for also came the epiphany he'd been seeking, as well. No, he couldn't destroy this spirit. But he could _ignore _it. Direct the _chi_ away from it, force the energy to follow other paths. The spirit would still exist, but it would be inaccessible to Hikoshu. Untouchable, at least until the next incarnation, when the _chi_ would flow properly again.

Yes, there would be associated problems. Perhaps depression, possibly muscle weakness and a pooling of blood. And as Natquik had told Hikoshu before, there would likely be pain. He couldn't avoid that. But now he felt enticingly close to the solution, which beckoned to his morbid fascination.

Focusing all of his will on those bright strands of _chi_, Natquik plucked them away.

Somewhere beyond his meditative state, Natquik could hear Hikoshu screaming. He knew the kind of torture that was driving his friend's anguished cries. But as absorbed as he was in his task, he barely even registered them. Rather, he occasionally saw the intersecting _chi_ begin to fade, and it was during such moments that he would pull back. Check Hikoshu's _jing_. Evaluate the other flows. Then return once more to his work.

Hikoshu stopped screaming long before he finished, though Natquik didn't know if he had passed out. He was still alive, and that was all that mattered. The _chi_ around what had been Hikoshu's eternal soul was now changed. Natquik had directed it to different streams, adjusting it to flow along the easiest courses, sometimes blocking its former channels.

And because of it, the 'color' of the _chi_ had shifted, too, though he knew that it was just a visual manifestation of something he could only perceive through his bending. Now it pulsed dimly with Hikoshu's breaths, a strange hazy bronze that 'felt' rough and weak. An amalgam of energy that was for all intents and purposes _normal_, but not Hikoshu.

Yet how it would affect his bending, Natquik couldn't be sure. It was simply all he could do.

When Natquik finally opened his eyes, he was still standing, still putting all of his weight on Hikoshu. His friend had long ago stopped fighting, his skin sickly pale even in the gold light of the chandelier. His eyes were closed and his head rested on his shoulder, the bone wand having fallen out of his mouth. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and chest.

As Natquik stood back, he realized he was also sweating, his hair sticking to his jaw. Wiping at his forehead, he weakly sat on the floor and grabbed Hikoshu's wrist, cradling it in his hand as he checked the other man's pulse.

"He's still alive," Natquik said without turning to the six behind him, his shoulders slumped. "When he wakes up, he won't be able to bend." Best just to pretend he was successful, or the Sage might want to find out for sure.

"And when will he wake?" The Great Sage's voice was calm, which somehow surprised Natquik. He supposed everyone should've been traumatized by something like that. Those screams, distant as they were from his thoughts, were going to haunt him for a while.

"I don't know. I don't know if he'll even wake up at all." Finally, he hazarded a glance back, and saw just what he'd been dreading. Miyo's accusing glare, aimed squarely on him. To compound the misery, she'd apparently been crying, her eyes red and swollen, the gag stained dark with her tears.

"Tzan," the Sage said, and Natquik noticed that the other Sage had paled considerably, "take his water pouch." Natquik was in no condition to fight, so he surrendered it to Tzan without even standing. Abandoned by her captor, Miyo fell to the ground, her unbalanced legs and her broken heart unable to hold her upright.

"Use it to rouse the Avatar," the Sage commanded, and Tzan threw him an uncertain look. Perhaps he feared what would happen if Natquik _hadn't_ been successful. Eventually, his loyalty to the Head Sage won out, and he turned the skin over Hikoshu's head, the cold water splashing Natquik. He then dropped the empty bladder at his knees, and retreated back to Miyo.

With a shuddering gasp, Hikoshu moved his head, his fingers slightly curling. Then slowly, as if still under the effects of a snow-serpent bite, he opened his eyes. The whites had turned red under the strain, and looking about wildly, his gaze soon settled on Natquik at his feet. Barely able to meet his eyes, Natquik gave a short shrug.

"How're you feeling?"

Hikoshu moaned, twisting against his cloth bindings, and Natquik could see how badly his hand shook. Bending the water from Hikoshu's clothes, he created another ice-knife to cut through his ropes. Yet even when freed, Hikoshu didn't move from the chair. He'd been rearranged – little in his body would work right for some time to come.

"It's done," Natquik said softly, letting the ice melt. It slipped into the cracked grout of the marble, swallowed by the floor. "The worst is over." Now all that was left were the repercussions. Such as those for committing an inexcusable form of torture and robbing the world of the Avatar at the same time. And, of course, what they all had in store, with no Avatar to protect them.

Still, for Hikoshu at least, it was over.

"You can let them go now." Natquik hardened his voice as he stood, turning to the Great Sage. "There's no need for hostages anymore."

"I wish there wasn't." The Sage really did seem regretful. But that did nothing to assuage the anxiety in Natquik, spurred by his words. "Hikoshu, can you bend?"

"It hurts even to move," Hikoshu murmured, so lowly that Natquik thought for a moment only he could hear it. His lips barely shifted as he spoke, his head limp against the high back of the chair.

"Still, I can't know for certain, can I?" the Sage said with a sigh. That managed to capture Hikoshu's attention, and he opened his blood-shot eyes, fixing them on the Sage beyond wet tendrils of hair from his loosed topknot. "I truly am sorry."

"No." Natquik was paralyzed. He was going to test Hikoshu anyway? That wasn't part of the deal! "I told you I removed his bending!"

"And we'll find out if that really is the case." Suddenly, he dropped Sahani, whose weight had been resting in his hand. As a result, she sagged to the floor, ashen, her expression vacant from what she'd just witnessed despite his warning.

"She is a princess of the Water Tribe." Natquik scrambled for a reason, any reason, that would keep him from what he was about to do. If only he hadn't handed over his water so quickly. If only he hadn't let it run into the grout. "You wouldn't hurt the nobility of another nation. You'd be declaring war!"

"No, you're right. I wouldn't hurt another nation's nobility."

He seized Miyo instead.

"Stop!" Hikoshu's voice was hoarse as he pushed up from the back of the chair, though not quite getting to his feet. "Even if I could, I can't bend right now! It won't prove anything."

"Before you leave here – before I lose this opportunity again – I will know if this night has been for nothing. It doesn't matter to me whether you bend or enter the Avatar State. If you want to save her, you will do something."

Miyo's hair floated around her once more as she fought against her ropes, her eyes brimming with both tears and panic. And Natquik, prepared to physically attack the Sage, suddenly found his way blocked by the lackey Tzan. Frustrated, he threw a punch at the man, who deflected it with a simple sweep of his hand.

Hikoshu had managed to stand by then, but he was moving too slow. The Sage held Miyo tightly to him, clapped his palm to her cheek, and bended.

Miyo's screams were nearly as agonized as Hikoshu's, despite the gag, as his hand slowly burned into her face. The smell of charred flesh and hair filled the room, sickening Natquik even as he swung at Tzan. Yet the firebender easily pushed him backwards with a blast of flames, and he smashed into a scroll-filled shelf.

Hikoshu stumbled forward, shouting feebly. But he wasn't bending. Natquik clambered to his feet, praying to the spirits for Hikoshu to bend – enter the Avatar State – whatever he needed to do to save Miyo. Yet there was no fire, no mystic Avatar powers. Just Hikoshu tripping on the floor as he pleaded for the Sage to stop. And over all of that, her screams.

"Natquik!"

He didn't know how he heard the name over everything else happening. His eyes snapped to Kinu, and he saw in amazement the Water Shaman had managed to bend the tea out of the Sage's pot. It swirled near his waist, where his hands were tied behind his back, unseen by the firebender who still held him captive.

It wasn't a lot, but it was enough. Jerking backward, he pulled the water to him. It moved so swiftly, solidified through his bending, that it sliced into Tzan's arm as it flew by him. Tzan roared and ducked out of the way, anticipating an enemy behind him. As a result, he gave Natquik a clear shot at the Great Sage, and he hurled the now frozen tea like a dagger at the Sage's heart.

Tzan's cry, however, had given the Sage enough forewarning, and he pulled his hand away from Miyo in order to throw up a barrier of fire. The small amount of tea was immediately consumed in the flames, hardly a threat at all. But the Sage's fire kept him from seeing Hikoshu, who appeared just as the curtain died away. Before the Sage could react, Hikoshu used the last of his strength to throw his shoulder into the part of his midsection unprotected by Miyo. And as she fell, they both crashed into the shelves behind them, Hikoshu still pushing with all of his weight.

Overcome with relief, Natquik gave a shout of triumph, though it was cut short as Tzan planted a kick in his stomach. He crumpled to the floor, holding his abdomen, while Tzan ran back to the aid of his master.

Tzan tossed Hikoshu to the side to help the Great Sage up, who also clutched himself in visible pain. Then, furious, the younger firebender kicked an unmoving Hikoshu hard in the ribs, his face twisted with a half-snarl.

"Enough," the Sage said with effort as he straightened, one hand still on his own ribs. "I think I have my answer. Let him alone." Tzan reluctantly obliged, moving to push Miyo over with one foot. When she changed positions, Natquik was afforded a clear view of her cheek, and it made him sick all over again. Miyo, however, looked too much in shock to notice, her eyes glazed and half-lidded. He hoped that she was numb to the pain, as well.

"Kazuo," the Sage turned to address the firebender holding Kinu, "you and Tzan take these four to the acolytes' quarters. Make sure to use discretion, but keep in mind that they are now officially guests and should be treated as such. Provide the waterbenders with water and give the women food. Understood?"

The firebender nodded, then retreated with Kinu back into the left intersecting branch – the one from which he'd emerged earlier. Growling, Tzan finished tying a rough-shod tourniquet along his arm, then grabbed up Sahani. She gave a squeak of protest, but didn't fight his grip, and he added Miyo by throwing her, once more, over his shoulder. She didn't even acknowledge the action.

Natquik knew they were about to make him leave, too. So, quickly, he crawled to Hikoshu's side. His friend hadn't moved once since falling, and Natquik worried that the fight had possibly taken everything out of him. When he pushed Hikoshu onto his back, though, he saw he was still alive.

Sallow, wide-eyed, and panting. But still alive.

"You'll go with them, waterbender, if you'd like to heal her," the Sage said above him. Glancing up, Natquik briefly considered attacking the Sage. Right now, when there was no one around to protect him. How easy it would be to take out one old man.

Yet the Sage's expression gave him pause. Despite the jeering way he'd uttered 'waterbender,' his face held no cruelty. Only sympathy. Sadness. A certain hint of remorse. It was at such odds with everything that had happened until that point, that it left him in breathless wonder.

But then he heard the door grating somewhere in the alcove, and Natquik realized his chance to help Miyo was quickly disappearing behind the wall. Giving the Sage a deadly glare, he pushed himself up and hurried for the branch.

With one last glance before he slipped around the corner, Natquik caught Hikoshu's eye. The Avatar looked beaten, almost dead inside.

And suddenly, Natquik almost wished he was.

* * *

**A/N: SPOILERS FOR THE AVATAR SERIES FINALE -- DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN SOZIN'S COMET.**

**LAST WARNING.**

**WARNED YET?**

So yup. Spirit-bending is now officially canon (I, of course, wrote this about a year and a half before it actually was). I look at this as more of waterbending that indirectly accomplishes the effect of spiritbending -- kinda like Ty Lee does with her pressure points.


	44. Consequences

**Warnings: **kinda graphic description of a wound. Again, nothing that would raise the rating. And again, you'll see it coming before you get to it.

* * *

**Chapter 43 – Consequences**

* * *

Though Natquik was hardly in the right mind to notice a change in décor, he did at least note that this room – their new prison – looked more subdued than the rest of the Temple. The wall opposite the door was made of rice-paper and seemed to slide open just like the other garden doors. Yet the paper was stained from the elements, and the wood frame may have even been warped. The floor was gray stone, in its center a single, extremely short unlacquered table that looked to be centuries old. Covered in scratches and gouges, it was the only furniture in that empty room.

He saw on a second glance, though, that wasn't actually true. In the walls to either side were two pairs of shallow alcoves. One pair held yellowed scrolls, nearly his height, that hung to the floor where a small, wood bowl sat. As far as Natquik could tell, they were identical on both sides, bearing the same characters. The last two alcoves held undecorated wood chests a little taller than his knees. They were length of a man, with lumpy gray mattresses on top of them – bunks meant for whoever lived there.

Kazuo stopped Kinu in the center of the room to remove his bindings, while Tzan dumped Miyo unceremoniously into one alcove bed and pushed Sahani toward the other. Before Natquik could find an angry quip for the firebender, Tzan swept by him and disappeared from the room.

"You won't have guards on you," Kazuo said blandly, undoing Kinu's blindfold, "so there's no point in fighting. His Eminence requests your forbearance, though, before you depart."

"That's it?" Natquik was floored. "We can just…leave? After all of that, you want us to go?"

Kazuo eyed him without emotion. "I suppose you can return to your country, start a war, and attack our nation. I suppose you have the justification to kill guiltless thousands for the actions of one crazy old man." He sounded bitter, nearly ripping off the ties that held Kinu's hands.

Crazy old man? That wasn't the rhetoric he'd expect out of a minion, and Natquik grew leery of the short-sleeved Sage. "Who are you?"

"He was the one who directed me to the tea," Kinu said, rubbing at his wrists. "I would have never found that, blind as I was."

Kazuo grunted, collecting all the ropes from the floor. "I _was_ a spy, apparently for the losing side. Not that there was much of a side left after Kanzagan died."

"Kanzagan's dead?" Kinu turned toward the Sage in surprise, but he was already sitting at Miyo's side to remove her ties. Her back jerked limply with every tug.

"You were fighting against that man?" Natquik ignored Kinu's question, his glare on Kazuo. "Then why didn't you do anything to stop him?"

"What would you have liked me to do?" he snapped as he pulled the rope loose, though he left her gag in place. "I'm an acolyte. I was only useful because Himizu thought that, by raising me to a Sage, he'd earned my loyalty. If Fire Lord Kanzagan had lived, perhaps…"

He trailed off, his gaze shifting absently to some point on the floor. The way his short-trimmed beard twisted with his mouth, and the way his wide-set eyes crinkled with pain, made Natquik think he was close to tears.

But then he shook his head, his topknot bobbing with the motion, and got to his feet. "It's no use now. The Avatar is gone. And we must all live with the consequences." He pinned Natquik with a weary look, then brushed past him for the door. "So you're free to do whatever. Tzan should be back in a moment with some water for your friend."

"Wait," Natquik said, abruptly struck with a sense of desperation. Kazuo paused, his expression impatient as he glanced over his shoulder. "Is there anything you can do for us?"

"Like what?" He sighed, pulling open the heavy, squeaky door. "What could I possibly do that could help at this point?"

"Find the Fire Princess." The idea came to him quite suddenly, and he felt a renewed sense of hope. If anyone had the power to do something, she would. At the very least, she could rescue Hikoshu. "She's a friend of the Avatar's."

Even as he suggested it, Kazuo was dismissing the possibility with an unhappy grimace. "Her Highness is already in a precarious enough situation. I won't endanger her further for you." Again, his eyes slipped away from Natquik, his voice distant. "His late Lordship wouldn't have approved."

"Then there's an Omashu woman named Yan-lin in the Palace." Natquik didn't like to beg, but this really was his last resort. The last person outside that Temple whom he knew to ask for. "She was staying in the Ambassadors' Wing. Could you find her?"

Fortunately, Kazuo nodded as he slipped out of the door. "I'll do what I can." Then he was gone.

Natquik stared at that door for a long while, his thoughts far beyond it. Could Yan-lin help at this point? What would he even ask her to do? Perhaps, something inside him argued, she might know how to fix all of this. Perhaps she'd learned it in visiting the fortuneteller with Hikoshu…

It was then that the unsettling truth he'd refused to acknowledge for most of the night finally hit him. The Sage's mention of the qu-dan. Yan-lin's suspicious attempts to keep Natquik away from the Fire Temple, when she was obviously lying about Sahani. And, of course, the betrayal that Hikoshu and he had both barely understood…

Why did he think she could help them when, in all probability, she was the sole reason they were in this situation to begin with?

His budding anger was interrupted by Tzan's return, the dull-eyed man holding a pitcher with his uninjured arm. Natquik supposed he should've felt some small satisfaction in that bloody cloth bandage twisted just above the Sage's elbow, but all he really felt was sick.

His orange eyes narrowing with hatred, Tzan shoved the white porcelain pitcher into his hands. "Here," he muttered. "Someone will bring you food later."

Natquik was sorely tempted to slice his throat with some quick waterbending – very sorely tempted. But it would've just caused them more trouble, when that was the last thing anyone in that room needed. So he let Tzan leave unharmed, with a silent promise not to let him leave that way again.

Then he turned back toward the interior of the room, noting that Kinu had in the meantime retreated to one of the beds with Sahani. They were both hidden in the shallow recess, Kinu's legs hanging from the alcove as he cradled the girl in his arms. He was saying something softly under his breath, one hand on her dark head as she rested against his chest. Her expression was just as vacant as it had been in the library, her wide blue eyes focused on a point past the walls.

Natquik wanted to go to her. She was so young, and this last month had been so horrible, that all he really wanted to do was give her some hope that it would be better soon. And, he admitted with a little pain, he needed their comfort, too.

But there was someone who needed him more.

His heart was tight in his chest as he approached Miyo. She'd managed to curl up into a ball on the mattress, her back to him, her arms around her stomach. For a moment, he even thought that maybe she'd fallen asleep. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Natquik sat on the bed beside her and set the pitcher at his feet.

"Turn over, look at me," he commanded gently. She didn't respond, so he grasped her shoulder and drew her toward him.

The first thing he noticed was that she'd been crying again, her undamaged cheek wet and matted with hair. On the other side, her flesh was raw, like butchered buffalo-yak, with chunks charred black. His stomach turning, Natquik realized part of those chunks were the remnants of the gag, seared into the wound.

Carefully, he pulled the fabric away, and she cringed in agony as he picked the leftover pieces from her cheek. Where they came loose, those sections bled. He worked fast now, bending fresh water across his palm to place over the burn. His hand, much larger than her cheek, swallowed her face and framed her eyes. But unable to meet her gaze, he somberly watched his glowing fingers, instead.

The whole art of healing. How could he look at it the same? Even as he felt Miyo's skin knit together under his touch, Natquik could envision the silvery _chi_ that coursed just below the surface. Yet with thoughts of her _chi_ came the memory of Hikoshu, whose _chi_ would never flow that normally again.

A moment later, her cheek was smooth, nothing left but a patch of red that would itself be gone in a day or two. Still, he kept his hand against her jaw, studying her face as if to find the mental hurt she had most likely suffered. Those gray eyes certainly looked shattered.

"If I could heal some things, you know I would," he whispered, and her tattooed brow furrowed with threatening tears. "I'm so sorry, Miyo."

"Sorry?" The first word she'd spoken in hours, and it was full of anger. The accusation in her gaze was enough to make him pull back, his heart sinking both in guilt and dismay. And with some hidden reserve of energy, Miyo pushed herself into a sitting position. "Do you know who else is sorry? Hikoshu. And me."

She then scooted back into a corner of the alcove, as if to distance herself from him, and pulled her knees to her chest. "I knew you were going to betray him – we both knew it! And look what happened! Oh, spirits, if only you hadn't come with us. If only we'd left you at Saowan!" She was panicking, her breasts heaving against her legs. But she wasn't yet pummeling him with airbending, at least.

"It was his choice, Miyo." Natquik kept his voice low, mindful of the other two occupants, as he leaned toward her in earnest emotion. Hoping she'd understand. "He asked me to do it for you. He wanted to protect you."

"No, don't you blame this on me. Don't blame this on me!" She began to weep, pushing her head against the wall as she hugged her knees. "I couldn't do anything! I was so helpless." Sadly, he crawled into the bed to gather her into his arms, but she pushed him away. "Don't! I don't want anyone. I'm fine, just fine." She choked on her words, pressing her hand to her mouth as she fought back sobs.

Finally, after several moments of broken sighs and involuntary gasps, Miyo swallowed audibly and regarded him with tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, Natquik. I didn't mean to accuse you. I know you were just…" she trailed off as she almost started crying again, and covered her face. "It was my fault, anyway. If I hadn't been caught..."

"You can't blame yourself for getting caught," Natquik said, but she waved him off as she squeezed the heel of her palm against her forehead.

"You don't understand. It's me. Always me he's trying to protect, and all because I can't…" Once more, she came apart, and he leaned against the opposite side as he waited for her to collect herself. "This is all my fault."

"Stop acting like your presence is some sort of curse," he said, reaching to clasp her hand. She didn't shake him off this time, and he held tight. "Hikoshu loves you. Spirits, Miyo, you're his whole world!" The reassurance didn't seem to make her any happier, her face twisting with another round of tears, and so he changed his approach. "Alright, so you think you're a burden. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to cry and be miserable," she said thickly, shooting him an irritated glare as she pulled her hand away. "What else am I going to do about it?"

"Find your resolve and direct your energy into something that's not self-loathing." He removed all sympathy from his voice, fixing her with his hardest frown. "Everything that's happened? That was yesterday. All the mistakes, all the bad choices. Today, though, isn't about you, or what you did. It's not even about what _I_ did."

She started to say something, but he leaned forward quickly to cover her mouth. "Alright, yes. You indirectly brought down your best friend and the Avatar. But I actually did it! I'll go down in history as the man who destroyed the world as we know it. Yet I'm not the one wallowing in self-pity."

"You're a terrible consoler," she said past his hand, yanking it away to stare at him in teary horror and offense. "You're getting onto me for being sad?"

"I'm getting onto you for being ridiculous. I expect you to be sad." He was, too. But not nearly as sad as she. "This morning, you can cry. But that's it, Miyo. However weak you thought you were yesterday, Hikoshu needs you to be strong today." Natquik dropped his voice to a whisper, taking her fingers into his once more. "_I_ need you to be strong today. Because right now, I can't be strong without you."

And as she finally understood what he meant, her heart broke again quite visibly in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Natquik." Gasping raggedly, she crawled into his lap.

Gently, he leaned back to hold her as she buried her face into his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders while she sobbed. And wrapping her in his arms, Natquik pressed his cheek to her head as he fought back his own wave of grief.

"He screamed so much," she murmured at one point, her voice muffled in the wool of his robe. "I didn't think he'd ever stop screaming."

"I know," he said softly. And he did, because Natquik had thought the same thing about her. Leaning his head against the wall, he clutched her to his chest and tried not to cry.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

There wasn't much else Yan-lin could do. Perhaps she could have walked to the Fire Temple, but she wasn't really certain what she would've done when she got there. Come up to the first Sage she saw and demand he take her to the Avatar? Somehow, she didn't think that plan was feasible.

Besides, even with Hikoshu, how could she help? Kuzon had said that the only way to save him was to stop it from happening, and she knew by the time she reached the Temple, it would already be too late. So she simply prayed he'd rescued Miyo and made it out alright. And that was everything in her power to do.

Still, it didn't relieve her conscience. If anything, it made the guilt worse. She truly, sincerely believed in the Great Sage's ideas. He was absolutely right; no one person should have that kind of power over _everyone_. But believing in something and doing something about it were two separate issues. One, she felt fine with. The other was leaving her an emotional wreck.

Yan-lin could have any complaint in the world against Hikoshu – and she certainly did, she thought with some bitterness as she trudged the distance back to the Ambassadors' Hall. But they were just personal complaints. Yan-lin didn't hate him. Most of the time, she'd actually liked him. Except when he was berating her country and her motives, and dismissing every one of her suggestions as below his attention…

She scrapped the thought as her frustration built again. She could go ahead and work herself into a fury over him, but it wouldn't do anything to lessen her remorse. The fact was that what Yan-lin had done to him was a million times worse than anything he had done to her.

And Natquik. Hikoshu's fate was horrific, but the problems she'd created for the waterbender were equally as bad. The words of the qu-dan flashed through her mind again, as dim as the dawn creeping around her. _The Avatar limps through the summer in drought and loses itself in the rain._ Such a vague message – such a small chance Yan-lin had been right. Yet if she were right, and Natquik went through with it, then the life he'd known would be gone.

_But he was dead!_ she argued for the thousandth time. The men on the ship had said he was dead. And it wasn't like she had any solid proof to back up the sudden epiphany she had regarding him. So telling Himizu her theory had been nothing more than a guilty pleasure. A way to get back at Hikoshu without having to worry about the consequences.

The excuses were amazingly weak, and she felt horrible for using them. Her father always said that one must take the responsibility for one's actions. He said the action of taking responsibility, far more than any other action, dictated a true leader.

Perhaps she wasn't much of a leader, then.

The Ambassadors' Hall was abandoned now, bereft of the soldiers that had swarmed over it the night before. Yan-lin didn't know why she expected there to be guards on what was essentially an empty building. Maybe because she still half-feared that Tala would have her arrested. Maybe because her conscience thought she deserved it.

And yet she was alone, the only sign that anyone had been there at all a large brown tarp over the yawning hole that used to be her window. Even the debris once littering the courtyard was now removed, as if someone in charge hoped to hide the previous night from the slowly wakening Palace.

Yan-lin sighed and climbed the terraced steps, her mind feeling incredibly numb. So much happening that she didn't know about. What a small, insignificant pawn she'd been this entire time. Always a pawn to someone. Her father, the Sage. About the only person who hadn't intentionally used her was Hikoshu, and look what she did to him.

This wouldn't do. Yan-lin savagely pushed the guilt to the back of her mind, making her way into the hall. She couldn't live with herself if she kept going in this direction. And seeing as she had a long, healthy life ahead of her, she needed to stop. Too bad Hikoshu wouldn't have the same opportunity.

Bitterly, Yan-lin climbed past her broken door and into her room.

She found her clothes. And not the Fire Nation clothes they'd given her, citing that she was too important and her robes too dirty. No, she found the Earth Kingdom robes – the ones she'd traveled in for nearly three weeks. They were washed now, folded and waiting under her half-burnt bed. Prepared for the long journey home. Unwilling to dress in front of a missing wall, Yan-lin took them to a neighboring room and changed in there.

When she finally came back to the destroyed room, she felt a little more comfortable. In her old clothing, and with her hair in its usual braid, she didn't feel like such a traitor. Somehow, just being out of the Fire Nation garments made her believe maybe the betrayal was a bad dream. After all, Yan-lin thought, she wouldn't do something so heartless. It had to be simple overreaction.

Natquik's knife, still buried in the door sill, brought the reality quickly back.

She needed her full weight to wrench it out of the wood, making her stumble as it came loose. Resignedly, Yan-lin examined the bone handle, wrapped in leather and decorated with small blue beads. He might come looking for it later, she thought with little conviction, and tucked the knife into the side of her sturdy Earth Kingdom boot. It fit snug against her foot, worrying her for a brief moment that it would cut her if she stepped wrong.

Then there was nothing else to do. So she sat on the bed and stared at the missing window. Sat and stared and waited. She didn't know what she was waiting for. For Tala to come find her, or maybe Sage Himizu. Or maybe, she wondered quietly, Hikoshu. But no one came, and the blue dawn slipping around the edges of the tarp morphed into purple, then red. She was alone with herself, and it was truly miserable company.

The sun was likely over the walls of the Palace when someone finally approached. They came from the inside, though, and she turned expectantly as she heard their soft footfalls on the wood beyond the cracked door.

But the man who stuck his head inside was just a befuddled Sage. Her face fell as she stood and gave him a polite bow in greeting.

"Someone really took out this room," he said, rubbing a finger against the singed doorway. He then looked to her, taking off his hat as he returned the bow. "Mistress Yan-lin?"

"Yes?" He knew her name, so at least he wasn't a curious passer-by. And he wasn't asking for an explanation of the disaster, either.

"I'm sorry to bother you." He straightened, replacing his hat, and scratched at his bearded chin as he scanned the contents of the room. "There's been a situation, and I was told you could help."

"I doubt I can offer you any help, Master Sage," she said, her voice involuntarily filling with regret. "I haven't been much help to anyone in quite a while."

"I'm an acolyte," he corrected, though he didn't seem to register any of her other comments. "Long story why I'm dressed like a Sage. But that's neither here nor there. My name's Kazuo."

"Well, Acolyte Kazuo, what unfortunate person thought he'd need my help?"

He shrugged, running his fingers under the sash around his waist. "I'm afraid I didn't catch his name. But you know him. A waterbender, a little shorter than me."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Natquik?"

"I think so, yes. That sounds right." He squinted thoughtfully. "There's been a situation with…well, you know." Uncomfortable, he threw an obvious glance to the missing window. "Someone. And your friend told me that he could use your help."

What was the situation? Had Natquik successfully taken Hikoshu's powers? Had he just been captured? Had someone been hurt? The firebender was vague, and she still didn't know if she could do anything. But she certainly wasn't going to say that.

"Yes, of course. I think I can help you, Kazuo." He seemed very relieved. "Can you take me to Natquik?"

"Oh, sure, that won't be a problem. But getting to…someone else might be." The statement was confusing, and she chose to ignore it.

"Just take me to Natquik and we'll worry about that later."

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

After Miyo had fallen asleep, Natquik went to check on Sahani, Kinu allowing him to take the Shaman's place in her bed. If he had to find one thing that hadn't gone wrong, Natquik supposed it was the fact that the Princess was unhurt. She was dirty, her usually pristine blue robes soiled with four weeks' worth of grime, and her hair only in a vague semblance of its usual braid. But aside from the way her eyes focused on nothing at all – the residual effects of a shock that might last for some time – she was healthy.

Eventually, she too fell asleep, and Natquik, half-asleep himself, crawled out from under her to finish his summary examination of Kinu. But the Shaman waved off his offers to heal the rope burns on his wrists, and Natquik returned the water to its pitcher.

"She's a tough girl, like her mother," Kinu murmured, rubbing at a gray eyebrow nearly as long as his nose. "After what she's been through the last few weeks, though…I think she just needs some rest."

"You look in worse shape than she," Natquik said, and Kinu straightened his shoulders proudly.

"They've had me shackled in a boat for four weeks, a hood over my head. Every night, I could hear the ocean lapping against the ship – feel it almost as surely as I felt the moon. But it was always just too far to reach." His whole body then seemed to sag. "If anything, that was the greatest agony. Having someone rob me of my ability to bend, when it was almost at my fingers."

Natquik narrowed his eyes, his own pride rearing up. It was a callous statement, made to draw on his shame. Yet Kinu looked anything but cruel, his brows curling in sympathy.

"I'm afraid you'll face a tribunal for this."

"Who was the man who helped you?" Natquik purposefully changed the subject. "You knew to trust him, so I expect you've seen him before."

"Not 'seen,' really," Kinu mused, his eyes sliding to Sahani. "He's been with us for the last two weeks or so. He'd bring Sahani trinkets to cheer her up – little bells and metal contraptions that play music. Things a Fire Nation princess might like but a Water Tribe woman would laugh at. It was kind, though, and I asked him if he was one of the mercenaries who kidnapped us."

At Natquik's confused look, Kinu quickly explained, "That's what we were led to believe. That we'd been abducted by renegade firebenders, intent on ransom. He seemed just as bewildered as you, and I took it from his reaction that we were being lied to."

"You never knew who was holding you?"

"Well, I figured it out rather quickly after that. I managed to glean from him that whoever held us captive, he was not one of them. But when I urged him to help my niece escape, he staunchly refused."

"Coward," Natquik muttered, recalling the firebender's response when he had demanded to know why he didn't help save Hikoshu.

"No," Kinu said with tenderness, gazing once more on Sahani's sleeping form. "He is a good man. He knew that he didn't have the power to save us. But he could bring us some small comfort, and I am indebted to him for that."

It was still called cowardice in his clan. Yet he had no idea what Kinu had been through, and if he still believed in the firebender after all that, Natquik wouldn't question him.

"So explain to me what's going on." Kinu looked to Natquik, his brow wrinkling with both age and exhaustion. "As far as I know, the world has gone insane and left me in its wake."

"No, I think that about sums it up." He hadn't slept all night, and his eyes were beginning to ache. "Chief Tuluk left south to find you over a month ago. His wife then captured the Avatar and sent us both here to rescue you. "

"My sister captured the Avatar." Despite everything, Kinu grinned proudly at that. "The Northern Tribe doesn't know such strong women as ours. They must have been furious."

"Yeah, the council wasn't very impressed with her man-like behavior." Natquik rubbed his neck tiredly. "She even fought him in the kashiq."

Surprisingly, Kinu laughed. It was a soft laugh, not loud enough to wake up Sahani, but Natquik hadn't been sure anyone would laugh again for a while.

"If only the Fire Nation knew the sleeping walrus-bear that they poked."

Natquik was about to agree, but he was interrupted as the door swung open. Standing there, dressed the same as that day on the river bank, was Yan-lin.

Natquik felt anger well up. Irrational anger that laid everything at her feet, even without knowing her excuses. He'd finally come to accept the nature of her betrayal. And while he couldn't understand how she had figured it out, he did understand that it was she who told them.

She must've read it in his eyes, for she hunched her shoulders and turned to leave. But the firebender from earlier, Kazuo, was blocking her path. Trapped, Yan-lin hesitated at the entryway, then reluctantly entered as Kazuo shut the door behind them.

"Kazuo said you asked to see me," she began meekly, her head bowed so that she didn't meet his eyes, only her braided bun visible from that angle.

"I did, but I don't remember why anymore." Natquik was cold. At his tone, she glanced up at him with some doubt, then looked to the firebender.

"Kazuo, could you please wait outside?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress Yan-lin, but it would attract too much attention." To make her feel better, he stepped back toward the door, leaning against it as he focused his gaze elsewhere. She didn't look any more comfortable for it.

"_Is this Earth Kingdom girl you spoke of? The one who can help Hikoshu?_" Kinu had switched to their native language, used infrequently enough that even Natquik took a moment to process it.

"_I may,"_ she said in the same language, her accent rough but understandable. Startled, Kinu swiveled his head to study her with a suspicious frown. _"But you have to tell me what happened first." _

"I think you know what happened," Natquik said, not even bothering to hide his contempt. "And I don't really want your help. Though I have to wonder how long you've had this planned."

Yan-lin briefly looked hurt by his accusation. But then she shoved it down, and abruptly she was as cool as any politician. _"We can have this argument at another time. Right now, I'm here to undo all the wrong I've done. So tell me where Hikoshu is, and if he's alright."_ She continued speaking in the water language, possibly wanting to keep all of this from the firebender. And though he was loath to help her out, Natquik also didn't want any other interested third parties in their affairs.

"I don't know and I don't know."

His lack of cooperation was obviously frustrating her. "_Natquik, if I'm going to save him, I need to know everything. What you did, is it reversible? Is it something that, given enough time, you can fix?"_

"_No, I can't." _It was very hard to keep his volume in check, but there was no point in waking Miyo and dragging her back into this mess. So fighting back the urge to lash out, he kept his voice icy. _"I broke him, Yan-lin. And it's like breaking a vase. No matter how many shards you find, you're never going to have that vase again. I could retrace my steps, do everything all over, put him through unbearable torture – all just for you. But he'll never be the same." _

Yan-lin turned distraught at that, her expression dropping with guilt. As well it should. She deserved more than just a guilty conscience. "Is there any other chance?" she asked with the kind of desperation that he'd had when asking that same question. But he felt no empathy.

"_My guess is the Avatar cycle itself isn't broken – just Hikoshu. So maybe if you aren't yet feeling treacherous enough, you might try, literally, stabbing him in the back. It'd be far kinder than what you've done already."_

That must've destroyed her. Her composure was still collected, but something seemed to crumple in her eyes, and she wheeled around before letting him see just what damage he'd done. Brushing by Kazuo, she disappeared out the door. And with one last confused look at them, he followed.

"Do you think you were too hard on her?" Kinu said after a moment of awkward silence.

"I wasn't hard enough." He finally turned away from the door.

"Natquik." Kinu scrubbed at his bearded cheek. "Don't you think there's been enough misery this day? What you gave her wasn't justice. It was vengeance, and it was out of spite. The girl regrets what she's done. She doesn't need to hurt anymore."

"I'm going to sleep." Though he doubted that he would. Settling himself against the wall near Sahani's bed, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned his head on the stone.

Kinu, with a sad frown toward the door and to Natquik, did the same.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Mistress Yan-lin?" Kazuo asked as he pulled the door shut. She didn't know how much of the conversation he'd understood, but surely he couldn't have missed its violent undertones. "Would you like me to escort you back to the Fire Palace?"

"No, Kazuo." She glanced along the hall to make sure it was clear. To be honest, all she wanted to do was go home. The conversation with Natquik had only confirmed what she suspected, and knowing was far worse than simply guessing. Back at the Palace, she could have convinced herself that nothing bad had happened. Now she had to face the reality of what she'd done.

But running from it now was impossible, and doing nothing even worse. So she gathered her resolve and regarded him confidently. "I need you to take me to Hikoshu."

"Mistress Yan-lin," Kazuo hardly looked prepared to take on that task, "he's being held securely. I'm not sure if I can do that."

"I know you've put yourself at great risk doing so much already. And I want you to know you have my eternal gratitude. Even if you choose not to help me now, you will have that." She stepped toward him, lowering her voice as she locked him in her gaze. "But there's still something left to do. Please, for Hikoshu, just help me on this one last thing."

He obviously wanted to say no – was obviously desperate just to get back to his life. Battling with himself, Kazuo stood there silently, and she wondered if he would speak at all.

Finally, he nodded. "This one last thing. But we need to hurry."

"Thank you." Yan-lin knew she should've felt a rush of relief. Yet all she felt was nausea and a sudden urge to run.

* * *


	45. Closure

**Chapter 44 – Closure**

* * *

After Natquik left, Hikoshu allowed himself to collapse back onto the floor. Physically, he was drained, unable to do anything but gasp. And yet his weakness didn't prevent him from _feeling_. Every inch of him hummed, as if he'd channeled lightning for hours without pause, and it hurt. Like millions of needles, prodding into his flesh. His ears rang, his vision swam, his muscles didn't respond correctly when he forced them to move.

But the worst part – by far the worst part – was the overwhelming sensation of _wrongness_. The feeling that he was no longer in the right skin. He knew who he was, his memories unaffected. But he didn't feel like he lived in this body anymore. And all he wanted was to be rid of it.

Himizu had said something, kneeling by his side with a gentle touch and a sympathetic frown. It was at such odds with what he'd been through that it should've been funny. But the only thing Hikoshu did find funny was the fact that Himizu had decided to test his bending when he couldn't even stand.

It was painfully funny.

He lost consciousness again at that point, all of his energy used up in the one attack he made on the Great Sage. And when he awoke, he was in a small, cold room. A student's room, judging from the size. His bed was merely a straw pallet, the stone otherwise barren save a single lit oil lamp mounted on the wall beside the door.

Time floated strangely right then. He found a bowl of water and a plate of food, which he didn't think he ate but couldn't be sure. His mind kept returning to the room, and he wondered why they'd taken out all of Yojing's folding screens that he loved so much. Hikoshu must've trained too hard, with the way his body hummed and ached. Yojing always pushed him to try, even when it hurt.

But then he remembered everything, and he thought he'd die from the sheer magnitude. A moment later, he was falling asleep, too exhausted to cope with it all.

Again, Hikoshu came to in the same room, though he didn't lose four whole years this time. He did drink something, but the food he left untouched. His stomach still churned violently, and the thought of anything solid made him gag.

Everything was better now, though, with a little sleep. His heart didn't thrum spasmodically like earlier, nor did his vision shake when he focused on the door. He still felt as if he'd been plucked up and shoved into another, poorly-fit body, but the sensation was just annoying now.

Hikoshu didn't even remember what Natquik had done to him, though he thought with a shudder that he might if he tried. So he chose not to, his thoughts as he lay on that scratchy pallet going straight to Miyo. That was something he was unlikely ever to forget – something that would definitely find its way into his nightmares one day. She was with Natquik, though, so she'd be alright.

He just kept repeating that to himself. She'd be fine. They were probably on Rosma now and headed to the North Pole. There, she would drop the waterbenders off, pick up Chian, and then be back at the Air Temple within a couple of weeks. In fact, depending on how long he had slept, they might be there already.

The idea of having slept away two weeks was appealing. No more decisions or worries; everyone would be right where they needed to be. And perhaps it wasn't as bad as Hikoshu had originally feared. After all, he was alive. A prisoner of the Fire Nation, but he had wanted to come back for four years. Wouldn't he have given up all of this frustrating Avatar business for that? He was just a normal person now. Without expectations.

The more he argued it over with himself, the more mollifying Hikoshu's thoughts became. He never wanted to be the Avatar. It had been shoved on him, and then it had forced him to leave the only home he'd ever known. So, actually, this was for the best. This was meant to happen – to take him out of a role he'd always been ill-suited for and put him back where he'd always belonged.

It was a compelling argument. So why did he still feel broken inside? Even as he talked himself into appreciating this new role in life, his finger would lift unconsciously in an attempt to bend the flame in the oil lamp. And every time he failed, Hikoshu grew more and more despondent.

The full meaning of it all finally hit him after he'd given up the convincing rhetoric and had settled himself along the wall. He sat there, raising his hand occasionally to an ever-constant flame. Sometimes he'd try out airbending, even waterbending just once. He felt nothing in his fingers; the build-up of energy was gone, the world dead to him. As disconnected as if he were dead himself.

And then he realized, with a crushing weight in his chest that made it difficult to breathe, that maybe that's what this was. Hikoshu had always been tired of his role as Avatar, as if it were some fancy title that he had been forcibly assigned. But it wasn't his role, nor was it even his destiny – it was _him_.

Memories came back to him, then, of the day the Head Sages of the Five Temples had approached him, Great Sage Himizu calling him away from training. He hadn't accepted the news gracefully; no one that young possibly could. But Hikoshu had pacified himself in the thought that this spirit was something inside him, but apart from him. He _had_ to believe that everything he knew about himself – everything that he'd believed to be true about his life – was still the same even after the announcement. That he was still just Hikoshu.

Now, though, with that part which he fought so hard to keep separate from himself gone, he couldn't even tell how much of him had been lost. He didn't feel like Hikoshu, and he certainly didn't feel like who he used to be. So he had to recognize that what he'd always kept at a distance – the part of him he identified as the Avatar – actually _defined _him. And without it, he was barely more than surviving.

The realization made him hollow inside.

In dwelling on those sad thoughts, he also slowly realized the one thing that had been a blessing – that, for his friends, at least, this ordeal was over – was as much a lie as the idea that he was still whole. By allowing himself to be crippled spiritually, Hikoshu had essentially removed the Avatar from the world. The one person who was supposed to protect it; the one who was to maintain balance.

His decision would haunt them all, and soon. The Water Tribes wouldn't overlook the actions of the Fire Nation. They'd retaliate, either out of anger or out of fear, but surely they would fight. It would be a repeat of history, as nations took sides, certain that without someone there to defend them, they would be forced to defend themselves.

Fifty years, but nothing had changed. The Air Nomads, the Water Tribes. Even the Fire Nation. They were going to look for him, and just as before, he wasn't going to be there.

He was mired in these dark, depressive thoughts for a long time. So much that even the sound of footsteps outside of his room didn't rouse him from his gloomy ruminations. As he'd gathered from earlier voices behind the door, there were men posted on him, and this was likely a sentry-change. Though why he needed sentries, Hikoshu couldn't guess. He'd never been more helpless, more out of control of his own life, than he was right then.

"State your business," some muffled voice said, and another, lower muffled voice answered.

"His Eminence sent me to evaluate the captive. It'll take but a moment."

"And who's accompanying you?"

"Wen Yan-lin, a friend of the captive. I'll be using her for the evaluation process."

He wasn't paying attention until he heard Yan-lin's name. It struck him like an air blast, wiping away any thoughts he'd had prior to that moment. And then, suddenly, in their place were a hundred emotions. Anger, hurt, so much _sadness_. The feeling of betrayal, augmented by his self-hatred for ever trusting her at all.

But, more than that, he hated her.

When the door opened, Hikoshu didn't stand and attack them, as he vaguely wondered if he should do. Instead, he stared up at them wearily, that terrible feeling of displacement sweeping through him again.

The firebender was the same one who'd held Kinu, his eyes hooded under the tall, conical Sage's hat, his mouth drawn into a frown. Pushing a cloaked Yan-lin roughly into the room, he turned and shut the door.

Yan-lin stumbled to a halt just a few steps from Hikoshu, her face also partly hidden by shadows. But as she pulled down the hood of her bulky cloak, her large brown eyes fixed on his in a look of controlled anxiety. Underneath that red fabric, Hikoshu spied the tans and deep browns of her traveling clothes.

So she was getting out of there as fast as she could. Which somehow made perfect sense.

The firebender slipped away from the door, folding hairy arms across his chest in what was probably his most intimidating stance. But he didn't say a word, and Yan-lin didn't move.

"Well, aren't you going to test me?" He couldn't even put hatred into his voice. It was just too much effort to care.

"Yes," the Sage stated blandly, his bare arms still over his chest. "If you can bend, you should do so now. Unless you want the girl hurt."

Glancing at the Sage, Yan-lin nodded and knelt quickly at Hikoshu's side.

"He's just covering while I talk to you," she whispered. "I might have to scream, though, so it looks like he's torturing me."

"What kind of sick joke is this?" he muttered, his head listless against the wall. "Haven't you done enough, that you have to come here and taunt me?"

"I'm not going to apologize, Hikoshu." She was glaring at him – glaring! "I don't have time and you won't forgive me anyway, so let's skip over it."

"I'm warning you, Avatar," the Sage interrupted gruffly, though his expression showed none of the anger that his voice held. "If I think you are being deceitful, I will make sure she regrets it." Hikoshu gaped at him.

"I'm going to fix this," Yan-lin said staunchly, moving to catch his gaze. "I was _wrong_. Hikoshu, I believed in what I did – and I still believe the Avatar can be a force of great evil." Her expression softened, turning almost sad. "But I don't believe _you_ are."

It took him a moment to speak, as he fought back the painful emotions her words inspired. Yet when he did speak, Hikoshu couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, or the blame. "Well, you won't have to worry about it, now. There is no more Avatar."

The injury he'd inflicted on her showed only in her eyes, which reflected his own desolation. "Please, Hikoshu. Let me make this right for you. For everyone I've hurt."

He stared at her, trying to understand her beyond his mistrust. Despite all that had happened, he realized, Hikoshu still wanted to have faith in Yan-lin. He didn't want to think he'd been wrong about her that entire time. And he wanted to hope there was still someone left who was on his side. "I'm not sure how to trust you again."

Yan-lin simply met his stare with unfaltering resolution, and for a moment, he thought that maybe he really should believe her.

"Last chance, Avatar!"

Hikoshu swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

"We just have to get you to Natquik." Some of her resolve melted into relief, and she let out a breath that she'd apparently been holding. "I think there's a way to reverse this, but we need to hurry before he and Miyo decide to leave. Are you strong enough to walk?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

And abruptly, she screamed.

Obviously, Hikoshu wasn't as strong as he thought he was. Otherwise, he would've jumped into a low stance to combat the unknown enemy. But in his weak state, all he could do was sit up, panic seizing him as his head shot around.

There was nothing there; not even the Sage had moved, his arms still across his chest and his face still set in apathy. A moment later, her scream died away, the terror and pain in her tortured cry disappearing with it.

"Was that necessary?" he mumbled, rubbing at his ear, and Yan-lin gave him a half-hearted smile.

"I want to be convincing."

She started to get up, but he caught her wrist at the last moment, keeping her from rising. Her eyebrows arched, she glanced back at him.

"Yan-lin, there is nothing that I have left. I can't bend, I can't even protect those I love. If this is another trick – some other way that you intend to hurt me – then you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I know," she said, carefully extricating her arm. "So you have no reason not to trust me this time." She then stood and offered to help him up. Though Hikoshu would've liked to get to his feet on his own, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Reluctantly, he grasped her hand.

"Yan-lin," the Sage whispered, taking a step toward her. "What are you doing? You said you just needed to talk to him."

"And now I need to get him back to the waterbender," she retorted, looping Hikoshu's arm around her neck. It must've looked ridiculous – she was short enough that he nearly engulfed her. But she really was holding his weight, her arm around his waist.

"I can't get you out of here." The Sage glanced nervously at the door, then shouted, "Pathetic. Don't make me break her other arm!"

"Kazuo, please," Yan-lin begged. That name, combined with his face, sent a jolt through Hikoshu. He didn't even know why he hadn't seen it until now. The firebender looked a little gaunter, his beard thicker and his eyes heavier. But it was him.

"Kazuo?" Hikoshu said under his breath. "You were the one in the chamber?" The Sage – or rather, the acolyte – caught his eye and gave a hesitant nod. "But…why are you working for Himizu?"

"I'm working for Master Yojing," he corrected with a frown mired in guilt. "Have been ever since the day I found him in his..." Tripping on the thought, he let the sentence go unfinished and jerked his gaze away.

"You saw him the day he died?" A familiar ache flooded Hikoshu, and Kazuo nodded with the same buried misery. "Then you sent me his note after Kanzagan died."

"Yes, but I can't help you here. I'm just an acolyte." Forcing back his pain, Kazuo threw nervous glances between Yan-lin and the door. "I don't have the strength or the ability to take on two Sages, let alone the whole Temple."

"He thought you were strong enough. He never would've asked you to watch out for me if he hadn't thought that," Hikoshu said, and squeezing Yan-lin under his arm, he urged her on. "Thank you for everything you've done, Kazuo. Our master would be honored."

"Hikoshu," Yan-lin grunted under his weight. "We can't get out of here by ourselves." Well, they didn't have much of a chance, either way. And he certainly couldn't ask Kazuo to do more than he already had. So Hikoshu just needed a moment to figure something else out, though his head was already throbbing with the effort of walking.

"It should've been you at the funeral," Kazuo said from behind him, loud enough that Yan-lin winced. But Hikoshu looked back, forcing her to stop. "You should've put him to rest." The words were practically dragged out of him, and he looked around wide-eyed, as if terrified of what he was saying. "And I don't know what it means…that it was me…"

Hikoshu turned toward him unsteadily. "I think it means he found peace."

The silence that passed between them was tense, filled with an unspoken grief that had consumed them both for years. Yet there was also comfort, as that grief now finally came to an end. The end of Hikoshu's doubt concerning Yojing's fate. The end of Kazuo's fear of what he might've done. In those quiet moments, they finally found the closure they'd been seeking since their master died.

Eventually, Kazuo gave him a sad smile, and nodded toward the door. "Get beside it." He then lunged at the wall, throwing his shoulder heavily against the stone. His hat flew off as he spun around, kicking an arc of fire into Hikoshu's pallet. Immediately, the straw became an inferno, and the air filled with stinging smoke.

Even as he destroyed the room, Hikoshu and Yan-lin were moving, half-stumbling to the door. Fortunately, the sentries waited until Kazuo began shouting before they charged in.

"Help! He's firebending!"

They were pressed flat against the wall when the guards came in. But the moment they entered, Hikoshu wrapped his arm around Yan-lin's throat, and she let out a short shriek as he mashed her into his chest, his fist pressed against her temple. They whirled around at her cry, hands raised to attack.

"Stop where you are, or I swear I'll kill her!"

The two men, both Sages, hesitated. Just a short hesitation, as they debated over the consequences of calling Hikoshu's bluff, as well as the consequences of believing him.

Yet before they could make up their minds, Kazuo came up behind them and planted a high kick to the back of one sentry's head. Stunned, the Sage fell to his knees, but Kazuo had already turned, landing his fist on the second sentry's chest. The force of his blast sent the Sage sprawling behind the door.

Yan-lin jerked herself out of Hikoshu's arms and threw all of her weight against the wood. It smashed against the Sage with a loud snap, just as Kazuo hit the first Sage with a punch to the center of his shoulders, the man's head whipping backward as he was slammed into the ground.

It was over so quickly that Hikoshu hadn't even moved from his spot against the wall. Breathing heavily, Yan-lin started undressing the Sage she'd managed to knock unconscious, and Kazuo bended out the burning pallet before retrieving his own hat.

"The Great Sage can't use soldiers inside the Temple," he said in explanation to Yan-lin as he wiped his forehead with the end of his sash. "And no self-respecting Sage would have military training. Which means they don't make the brightest sentries." He almost seemed proud, causing Hikoshu to wonder what Kazuo had gone through in the years after Yojing's death.

Yan-lin shook her head, loose hair from her bun floating around her face. "They may not make great sentries, but that's not going to matter if we have to get through fifty of them." With the clothes in her arms, she hurried back to Hikoshu and unloaded them on him. "You better change if we're going to get to the acolytes' quarters."

Too worn to worry about modesty, he began to strip off his torn, smoke-stained robes. Natquik had destroyed his belt, such that the dark red outer robe hung loose on his frame. But someone – possibly one of the guards – had thought to retie the strings of his lighter inner robe, perhaps to keep him warm. So he worked at those, his fingers still strangely numb. "Where are we, Kazuo?"

"The old student hall behind the kitchens."

As far as Hikoshu was aware, that hall hadn't been in use since the Thorn-Coral Earthquake destroyed its northern section nearly a century ago. Sages would have no reason to go near the wing, and he assumed that was the very reason he'd been put there.

"Hikoshu," Yan-lin gasped, and he almost fell as he scrambled away from the door. But no one entered, and he looked to her in irritation. She, on the other hand, was staring at his chest.

At the long, neat cut that Natquik had used to manipulate his _chi_, nothing more than a crusted line now.

"Funny story," he mumbled, slipping the Fire Sage tunic over his head in order to hide it. "Natquik? Not quite the healer we thought he was."

She was still staring at it through the fabric as he self-consciously pulled on pants under his calf-length tunic – all of it just a little too short and a little too tight. But he was growing used to wearing uncomfortably small clothing as a disguise; even the sandals didn't bother him as much as he expected. Of course, that might've been due to the lingering numbness in his legs.

"How does it look?" he asked after he was finished, though both their expressions said enough.

"You look like you've been dragged under a badgermole," Yan-lin sighed, placing one of the hats firmly on his head.

"If we walk quickly and stick to the bending tunnels, they won't see you, anyway," Kazuo said, and Hikoshu snorted as he straightened the hat.

"Hopefully."

"Just stay close behind me." Kazuo threw a glance to the two unconscious Sages, still lying where they'd fallen, then headed out of the room.

Tugging up her hood, Yan-lin started to follow, but Hikoshu caught her arm.

"Is there really something Natquik can do?"

"Of course," she said with some curiosity. "Why would I lie about that?" She then offered her shoulder again, and he gladly took it, the two of them leaving the smoky chamber into the dark hall.

* * *

**A/N: ** Yet another hard-to-edit chapter, considering how short it is. Canonically, last names go last (as in Toph Bei Fong), but I defied canon by putting Yan-lin's last name first (Wen Yan-lin). Kind of a stickler point, I suppose, but it felt more natural to me that way. Perhaps because it rolls much better off the tongue than vice versa (in fact, "Gi-Luon Wen" is practically a tongue-twister). So I'm chalking this up to evolution and saying that in a thousand years, culture shift has resulted in the change in clan name usage.

The other option was changing their clan name, but I'd grown so attached…


	46. Flaws

**Chapter 45 – Flaws**

* * *

"So it worked perfectly," Nizan said, fiddling with a glass ball that had sat on Himizu's desk, unmolested, for several years. The boy had grown impudent in the past month as he assumed full duties of Fire Lord, and Himizu knew he would have to rein him in soon or risk losing his sway on the throne.

"Nothing ever works perfectly." He took the ball from Nizan's hands, replacing it on the desk. Pure volcanic glass, with no imperfections, was hard to find and he didn't want Nizan breaking it. "Given time, there'll be flaws."

"The Avatar is imprisoned and powerless. How could it possibly go wrong now?"

Himizu ground his teeth, forcing back his impatience, as he returned to his bamboo mat before the golden shrine. Nizan was becoming far too bold, tempting the wrath of the spirits in such a way. He needed to learn some humility before someone else taught him.

So Himizu once more assumed a lecturing note. "The Avatar, no matter where or what he is, is still an awesome and terrifying figure in the eyes of the Four Nations. We are dangerously close to traitors – yes, even you, my Liege," he added as the boy scoffed, "and it will take some time to convince the world that what we did was in the best interest of everyone."

He folded his knees along the mat and folded his hands in his lap, his eyes scanning the length of the large scroll hanging before him. "Until then, there is always a chance that something will go wrong. We must be vigilant."

"Then how about the traitors in our own nation?" Nizan's heavy footsteps fell across the room as he searched for something else in the Great Sage's study to trespass on, his crimson silks rustling against his legs. "Those who've opposed me for the last two months? They carry on silently, plotting behind my back." His voice had dropped to an angry, paranoid murmur. "I fear for my life and I've not yet finished the year of my father's reign."

"You refer to your sister." The incense sticks before him burst into tiny flames, though he couldn't concentrate on their scent long enough to meditate. Nizan had ordered Tala confined to her rooms following the late night incidents at the Palace, and Himizu was already dreading the battle to convince him to release her. "The Princess is hardly a threat, my Liege. She'll never find a force willing to dethrone you."

"She doesn't need a force." He was still grumbling, so low that Himizu could barely hear him. Something clanked, and he tried not to look. In the future, he would have to make sure to meet Nizan only at the Palace. "She will poison me one evening, to be sure. Hers is a subtle way of killing. Just like she did to my mother."

"If you try your sister as a traitor now, when so new to the throne, they'll see you as a tyrant." Himizu had explained this before. In fact, it seemed he was explaining it nearly every other day. "You must be united in your family. If you don't trust them, no one will trust you."

"What if I said the Avatar was behind me?" Suddenly, his voice grew excited, as if he'd just happened upon an inspired plan. "I could say he sympathizes with me and sees my sister as a threat to the nation."

Himizu took a deep breath, trying to stem his frustration as he absently studied the scroll before him. "My Liege, please listen to me and let Princess Tala be. You have much greater enemies than she."

"But I could use the Avatar against them, as well." The boy just wasn't going to drop this ingenious new plan, though he loudly dropped something else, metallic and probably fragile. "If we didn't let people know that we had subdued the Avatar, I could use him as support to any decree. No one would distrust his motives, impartial as he is. And I would have the world behind me."

"The Avatar isn't a puppet, my Liege. He can't be used for personal gain." It wasn't the first sign that Nizan didn't truly understand what Himizu was trying to accomplish. But with his newfound power, the Prince was growing more vocal in his own self-preservation. "We did this to rid the world of the Avatar. Not to use him to manipulate it."

"But think of how much good we could do for the Fire Nation if we claimed the Avatar was on our side!" That sounded very close to isolationist rhetoric, and Himizu frowned. "It wouldn't hurt to use him, at least until we can make it public that the Avatar as we know it no longer exists."

"My Lord is thinking too many steps ahead. Before we approach the issue of the Avatar, we must first handle the issue of the Water Tribes." Something that would distract him from his fanciful dreams of conquering the world.

"Oh," he said, deflating considerably. He came into view to Himizu's left, leaning against the wall where a tapestry of ancient poems hung. His pristine, red robes were draped loosely on his frame, swallowing his arms, and in his hands was a jade box for pins. Himizu had no idea where the pins were at now. "What about them?"

"The first thing they'll do upon returning is make it clearly known that the Avatar has been neutralized, and that the Fire Nation did it. Ba Sing Se or Omashu may not respond, but the Water Tribes surely will. And the knowledge that the Avatar no longer holds any power would make it very hard for you to use him."

"Then just kill them." He shrugged, apparently unimpressed with this dilemma. "I've said that for weeks now. Kill them and blame renegades. We could even hide the bodies on a Fire Navy ship…"

"Killing people is complicated, my Liege." He felt like he was repeating himself quite frequently with Nizan these days. "Stories must be disseminated, witnesses must be put into place. And for a foreign assassination, the situation becomes even cloudier as we can't control what happens outside our islands."

"Still simpler than a war, wouldn't you say?" Nizan's face had grown disdainful, and he clapped the jade box open and closed. "Himizu, my first great decision in this country will _not_ be a mounted defense against an invasion. I will not have war now."

"My Liege," Himizu began, staunching his building anger. How dare he not show proper respect for the head of the Temples? "This is unadvisable."

"I don't really care what you're advising. I won't have a war risking the lives of my people. If killing a couple of Water Tribe savages will take care of the mess, then do it."

"This mess, my Lord, is one that you created." It was dangerous to bait Nizan in such a way, but he needed to be reminded that he was responsible for these foreigners, as well as their lives.

"And I'll take care of it." His expression darkened at Himizu's reproach, his shoulders going stiff. "Should I use the Sages or should I send in a handful of navy officers to handle them?"

Himizu adjusted his spot on the mat to capture Nizan in a glare, preparing to give him a fifth stern lecture on the use of soldiers within the Temple. Fortunately, probably for Himizu, a knock interrupted the discussion.

He sighed and climbed slowly to his feet. Most likely another report on the reparations to the Central Chamber following the morning attack. No one quite understood what had happened, and a hundred rumors had already formed even before the Sages escaped through a window in the Offerings Hall. But for once, uncontrolled gossip had been Himizu's ally – the confusion served to hide the absences of certain Sages and gave him more time to explain where they'd been.

But the man behind the door wasn't the Temple curator, as he'd expected. Instead, it was Sotsu – who was supposed to be in the Old Student Halls. He was pale, tense, and shining with perspiration. And suddenly, Himizu knew he'd just been greeted with the flaw in the plan.

Too impatient to bother with the Sage's shoes, Himizu ushered him in. As he turned to close the door, he heard a gasp and a thump as Sotsu fell to his knees, his hat rolling into view.

"My Liege!" he said, his voice muted by the marble floor.

"What happened?" Nizan glanced up from the box in his hands. "You look a little wasted, Master Sage."

Himizu gave the prostrate Sage a casual kick as he walked by, signaling for him to stand. "And why aren't you watching over our guest?"

"Your Eminence," Sotsu began, lifting his head just enough to regard them below his eyebrows, "he has escaped." He paused in order to wince, as if expecting to be upbraided for the failure of others. While unpleasantly surprised, Himizu was never one to burn a messenger, and he gestured for him to continue.

With a hesitant glance at Nizan, Sotsu obliged. "We found the two guards unconscious in his room. They believe he might be able to bend."

"The Avatar is no longer subdued?" Nizan said impulsively, pushing away from the wall. Himizu held up a hand and flashed him an irritated frown.

"Please allow me to handle this, my Liege." The whole point to Himizu 'handling' this was so that Nizan had deniability. And the boy was making his own hand in the affair all too apparent. "How long ago, Sotsu?"

"I don't know. But he had a hostage – an Omashu diplomat – and Kazuo was helping him."

The acolyte. Himizu let his eyes fall closed briefly in personal reproof. He had thought that raising Kazuo to a Sage after Yojing's death would invite his loyalty, as well as allow Himizu to keep a closer eye on his activities. And after years of observing Kazuo, he'd decided the man was hardly a threat. He could only follow orders – admittedly, Kanzagan's orders most of the time, but in the end, that had done little to alter Himizu's plans. And with Kanzagan dead, Himizu had assumed that Kazuo would flounder in his own lack of initiative.

Apparently, he was mistaken.

"They're in the bending tunnels, then." Himizu hurried to his writing desk, nearly dropping the inkstone as he pulled it free of some loose-leaf scrolls. Quickly, he wrote a message out, speaking instructions at the same time. "Sotsu, alert the Second and Fourth Sages, have them search the tunnels. Tell them I've identified the responsible party from this morning as Kazuo and that he has taken a visiting diplomat as hostage. Make no mention of the Avatar."

He didn't know if Hikoshu could bend. If he could, though, it seemed ridiculous that he would have to use a hostage and an acolyte to escape; any half-realized Avatar would've easily overpowered two Sages. So it might still be possible to keep Hikoshu's imprisonment undiscovered. He just had to be discreet.

"I also want a guard of four placed in the acolytes' hall immediately." He imprinted his seal on the now-rolled scroll and urged Sotsu up, shoving it into his hand. "Make sure they are only Sages who've worked with us before, and make sure they remove any acolytes still in their rooms. No one else is to enter or leave that hall. Understood?"

Sotsu nodded hastily and moved for the door. Yet Nizan's voice made him pause.

"Master Sage, let them know that if anyone other than the Avatar stands in their way, they are free to do whatever's necessary to remove the threat. They'll not be held accountable for any casualties, so long as no firebenders are hurt."

Sotsu threw a timid glance to Himizu, seeking confirmation. But Himizu trained all emotion from his expression to return his gaze levelly, and the Sage finally nodded before disappearing out the door.

As soon as Sotsu left, he turned to Nizan. "I'd appreciate you not giving orders to my subordinates."

"Everyone is subordinate to me, Himizu," he said indifferently, flipping the jade box closed one last time as he strolled to the writing desk. "Besides, if all goes well, the Avatar will be caught again and the Water Tribesmen will be taken care of. So I'll have handled the flaws in all of yours plans."

He dropped the box heavily on his desk. Disturbed, the perfect crystal ball rolled off its marble base and broke upon the floor.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Everything went smoothly at first, as everything always seemed to go for Hikoshu, before one unexpected disaster or another. Once in the tunnels, Kazuo was adept at maneuvering around the Temple, years as an acolyte instilling in him an intimate knowledge of every crevice. And though he had to bend a light with which to see, the turns and stairwells were frequent enough that no one would notice who they were until nearly on them.

Probably all intended by Kazuo. After they'd traveled for much longer than it should've taken, Hikoshu realized he hadn't seen many intersections or straight tunnels. Kazuo was leading them into the bowels of the Temple, walking completely out of their way to avoid Sages and acolytes alike.

And it worked for a while. Hikoshu didn't see a single firebender, their muffled footsteps on the dirt-strewn floors the only sign of life. Eventually, an acolyte appeared in the darkness, nearly crashing into them, and they pushed against the wall for the man to pass, Yan-lin hidden behind Hikoshu. They went unrecognized.

Hikoshu was still weary, but there was no way Yan-lin could carry his weight the entire way. So he managed alone, occasionally grabbing the wall to support himself, occasionally asking Kazuo to slow down. That made the trip even longer, yet the other option was to have Kazuo carry him. And given that he was their sole means of defense, Hikoshu was hesitant to encumber him.

It rankled to admit how helpless he was, even to himself. Having to follow another firebender was like salt in his wounds – a painful reminder that he served no useful purpose, his presence doing more to hinder than to help.

Perhaps sensing his quiet frustration, Yan-lin would try to give him some comfort by squeezing his arm. Hikoshu brushed her off; he would have to bear her betrayal, but he would have none of her pity. Rejected, she'd edge away from him, only to try again when his somber mood returned.

They barely talked at all. If Kazuo wanted to communicate something to them, he'd gesture with his free hand. It was infrequent, though – he never had much to say besides which direction to turn. And they understood the most important message, anyway; don't get caught. Now that Kazuo had officially betrayed the Great Sage's trust, Hikoshu felt responsible for his fate, too. So he kept silent, listening for the sounds of other Sages over their breaths and the whisper of their clothing.

They saw the light of a group of Sages before they saw the Sages themselves. The way the turns were situated, their firelight flashed against the walls, throwing a myriad of illuminated silhouettes as the flames glowed over each other, the shadows of the men dancing.

And as soon as he saw those shapes, Kazuo immediately threw up an arm, stopping both Hikoshu and Yan-lin as he extinguished his own flame.

Everything went dark for a few moments as their eyes adjusted to the dim light of the other group. But Kazuo didn't give them that much time; he grabbed both of their shoulders blindly and twisted them around, forcing them into a run as he hissed at them to move. Hikoshu stumbled at the sudden command, scrabbling to catch himself, but Kazuo grabbed hold of his robe and hauled him upright. Somewhere behind them, the Sages had noticed their abrupt disappearance, and in a burst of activity, their voices rose to shouts.

"They're a search party," Kazuo said under his breath, his hand on Hikoshu's back to keep him from falling again. "Too many of them to be anything else." Hikoshu snuck a glance past Kazuo and saw four or five separates fires appear around the corner, throwing their benders into stark relief. A mixture of shadowy faces and red robes, they looked intent on finding something, each flame moving to explore the tunnel for hiding places.

"I can't see," Yan-lin whispered somewhere to his right, and her fingers scratched along the stone as she groped at the wall. "Kazuo, where are we?" Hikoshu had to admit, hurrying through darkness was terrifying, and the cramped tunnels seemed to grow even narrower the further they ran. His hands weaved in front of him, reaching for air in an attempt to assuage his fears that they might run into something.

But Kazuo seemed to know the tunnels far better than mere human sight, and Hikoshu had to bite back a gasp as, without warning, he yanked them to the left. Hikoshu expected to smash into a wall but instead only found space, once again nearly losing his balance.

Behind him, the voices of the Sages had turned frustrated, and he caught the echoes of their conversations. "…still in here…" "…just one fire…" "…keep checking for branches…"

He couldn't follow the dialogue – Kazuo was already shoving them down this new branch. And a moment later, Hikoshu did just what he'd feared would happen, crashing into a stone wall without anything to lessen the impact.

"Step back," Kazuo whispered, a dim flame appearing above Hikoshu's head. As he blindly examined his jaw, the stone before him sprung to life, rumbling under its weight. They were then flooded with the light of the Temple's interior, and suddenly, the Sages were shouting behind them.

Kazuo didn't even check the passage before sending them into it. Once outside, he rounded on his heel to push back a lantern next to the door and bend the tunnel closed. Yet unlike the moments it took to open the portal, it now seemed to take forever to seal it.

Glancing along the hall, Hikoshu braced his hands on his knees in exhaustion. Fortunately, they were alone – the hall was simply a better-lit equivalent of the tunnel they'd just left, the stone walls barren save for the periodic oil lamps.

"Where are we now?" Yan-lin said in a low voice as she took in the long, empty corridor. But Kazuo didn't answer, grabbing Hikoshu's back as he urged them to run again.

They hadn't made it too far when the sound of the door echoed along the stones, the groan almost deafening to Hikoshu's strained nerves. And he probably would have fallen again, had Kazuo not locked his arm around his waist at that moment to assume some of his weight. Yan-lin ran a few feet ahead of them, throwing occasional glances back to the now shouting Sages. The way her face blanched told Hikoshu that they weren't making any ground.

An intersection appeared ahead, and upon reaching it, Kazuo again roughly tugged him down one of the new corridors. Though equally as long and empty as the previous hall, this one had far more intersections, corridors branching from it every five or six feet for its entire length.

Almost immediately, Kazuo came to a stop, dropping Hikoshu long enough to push back one of the lamps in the wall directly to his left.

"Kazuo, they're behind us!" Yan-lin said in a panic, no longer caring about her volume. Kazuo, though, ignored her and firebended the door open. Then, to Hikoshu's confusion, he grabbed his and Yan-lin's arms, dragging them away from the door and down two more intersections before diving into yet another connecting branch. There, he pushed them against the wall and signaled for them to be quiet.

Even as they fought to catch their breaths, the echoes of the Sages sifted from the corridor they'd just left. One of the men cried out as the door grated shut on its own accord. A moment later, it opened once more, its vibrations traveling through the stone to rattle Hikoshu. Then all sound disappeared as the Sages entered the bending tunnels, and after a few more tense moments, the door groaned closed.

Kazuo still held them against the wall, listening intently long after the Sages were gone. Finally, he relaxed his tense grip on them, and Yan-lin pushed away from the stone, grabbing at the hood that had fallen around her neck in the rush. She obviously wanted to say something, but Kazuo gestured for them to remain quiet, and led them down the passageway at a slower, if still quickened, pace.

"Where are we?" Yan-lin repeated after a lengthy pause, as she glanced uneasily along the unending passageway. But Kazuo didn't speak, and she didn't press the question, all three walking in continued silence. Infrequently, Hikoshu thought he heard a stone door begin to open, but no one appeared in the hallway, much to his relief. He didn't think he could take another mad dash.

"The passages lead to the sea," Kazuo eventually said, as if there had been no interval between the question and answer. "They were used for purification rites, though these days, only acolytes use them."

"We need to get to the acolytes' quarters," Yan-lin reminded him impatiently, and he shot her a sharp frown.

"I know how to get to the quarters from here. But the Fire Sages expect us to be using the bending tunnels, now that they know I'm guiding you."

Yan-lin didn't really understand what Kazuo had sacrificed for them, but Hikoshu did. The life he'd purposefully chosen was now destroyed. In aiding Hikoshu, he'd turned on the Great Sage – the one man who controlled his fate. He had given himself to the Temple, and if the Temple dismissed him, he would have nothing at all.

"Kazuo," Hikoshu began, abruptly overcome by his own conscience, "thank you." It felt paltry, giving him his gratitude in exchange for his life. How could he thank a man who had just surrendered everything he'd loved to help them? "You don't know what this means."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be doing it." Kazuo dismissed his words gruffly, his eyes trained forward with singular determination. "The world needs an Avatar. Master Yojing believed it, and so do I." He obviously would brook no argument on the subject, and Hikoshu fell silent, trying to ignore a mental list of every person he now owed his life to.

The passage eventually let out into a gigantic foyer – a spacious chamber fed by five separate passages, including theirs. On the wall opposite them, along the expanse of the great hall, were three massive oak doors, their wood warped and rotted in places. Water also gathered in leaky pools on the floor and along the walls, its briny smell confirming what Kazuo had said about the sea. Though Hikoshu had never heard of the rite, he could imagine the Sages forming processionals through the corridors to gather in the foyer, and then exiting through those large doors to the shore.

Kazuo didn't head for them, as Hikoshu had expected. Which was fortunate – the wood looked like it wouldn't move even if it was airbended open. Instead, Kazuo veered to the right, toward a depression in the wall next to the farthest passage. The depression turned out to be a stairwell hidden in the recesses of the stone, slimy with old seawater.

Hikoshu struggled not to slip as they climbed the winding staircase, Kazuo in front of him and Yan-lin behind. But the steps were high and his clothes didn't fit well, not to mention he was still very weak. Finally, out of desperation, he had to make Kazuo stop.

"This leads into the quarters," Kazuo explained, carefully wriggling past Hikoshu in order to take Yan-lin's place behind him. "There're two floors to the acolytes' hall. The first level is the one we're heading for." Nodding, Hikoshu continued upward, this time with Kazuo supporting him in case he fell, rather than Yan-lin.

The stairwell was steep, and by the time he reached the narrow landing of the first floor, Hikoshu was winded. Kazuo told him to stop while he switched places with Yan-lin, and he took advantage of the momentary respite to catch his breath. It'd be over with in another hundred feet or so. This weariness, this wrongness_. _They were so tantalizingly close to the end. With a renewed wave of energy, Hikoshu pushed himself up from the wall and stepped into the corridor.

The first thing he noted was that it was much larger than the other passages they'd been in, one side filled with doors and the other side filled with open windows. Sunlight streamed across the floor, startling him with how bright it was. After all that time in one stone room or another, Hikoshu had forgotten the world outside was day.

But what startled him more was what he saw at the end of the hall, where a large door stood open wide on an intersecting hall.

Four Sages, their heads facing him.

He stumbled backwards, colliding with someone, but as the Sages shouted and started toward them, he pushed that person back into the stairwell. Turning, he saw Yan-lin, whom he grabbed and ushered down the steps.

"Kazuo," he said past her head, nearly collapsing against the wall, "there're Sages!"

The acolyte paled visibly as he gazed up at Hikoshu, several steps below him. "We can't escape them on these stairs."

"No," Yan-lin suddenly said. She clutched at her cloak with barely hidden terror, but in her eyes was a pragmatism that Hikoshu remembered from the qu-dan's cave. "No, there's a way. Hikoshu, stick your head out there and shout something."

"Do _what_?"

"Just do it! Shout that you have a hostage. Tell them to stay back."

The Sages were nearly on the stairwell, their crimson robes flapping as they ran. Bracing himself for a face-full of fire, he yelled, "Don't come in here! I have a woman hostage, and I'll hurt her if you do!"

They didn't slow at first, and Hikoshu dreaded it wasn't going to work. But finally one of them said something under his breath, and the four Sages of varying levels of intimidation came to a stop as they studied him warily several paces from the stairwell.

Yan-lin was whispering with Kazuo behind him, so low that he couldn't hear the exchange. But they were taking a long time to formulate their plan, and as he watched the Sages around the corner, he grew more anxious.

"You're not going to hurt the woman," the lead Sage said, which Hikoshu realized with a sudden wave of hatred was the firebender who had held Miyo. "Just hand her out and come with us."

"Go ahead and try me if you want to find out what I'll do!"

Kazuo and Yan-lin must've come up with a plan, because suddenly she grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards fast enough that he nearly toppled over. But she steadied him and urged him to maneuver down the steps, past her and Kazuo. As he squirmed by, Kazuo muttered instructions.

"Hide around the turn. Don't come out till Yan-lin finds you."

He didn't quite understand the plan yet, but Hikoshu did understand this was the last time he was going to see Kazuo. Pausing to grip his arm, he caught the acolyte's eyes.

"I'll make this right. For you and our master."

For a brief moment, it looked like Kazuo believed him. But then his expression faded into the grim determination that he'd had for most of the journey. Nodding, he pushed Hikoshu further down the steps. And before they disappeared beyond the turn, Hikoshu saw Kazuo engulf Yan-lin's thin neck in his hand.

The Sage – Tzan, possibly – was shouting somewhere above him. Then Yan-lin started to scream, begging them to stay back in a voice that sounded like she was literally being held by the throat. The anguish in her pleas nearly drove Hikoshu to action, but forcefully, he shoved back his desire to help her. She knew what she was doing; he just had to trust her.

The next moment, there was the loud rush of firebending, though he couldn't tell if it was from Kazuo or someone else. A thud, the scrabbling sound of footsteps, followed belatedly by the soft shuffling of the four Sages, one-by-one, as they darted up the stairs.

The noises had barely faded into the distance when Yan-lin reappeared above him, offering him a hand. She looked uninjured, though a red ring had formed around her throat just below the collar of her cloak.

"He used me to hide his face," she explained hoarsely as she pulled him into the now empty hallway. "They saw you and me, but they never saw him. So we tried a little subversion. Convinced them that it was you they were following."

Hikoshu threw a regretful look back to the staircase, hoping Kazuo would be alright. Perhaps they would catch him and realize he was the wrong man, then abandon him long enough for the acolyte to escape. Yan-lin, though, seemed more worried about the Sages' inevitable return to this floor. So she made him hurry, yanking him down the hall much faster than he could actually run.

They stopped at a door near the center of the hall, which Hikoshu assumed was the room that contained Natquik and Miyo. And considering what they'd been through, he marveled at the fact they'd made it this far at all. Breathlessly, Yan-lin turned to face him, swallowing before she spoke. Her face was surprisingly pale despite the exertion, and she stared up at him with wide eyes as she held onto his hand.

"This is it. They're right behind that door."

"Well, then, let's hurry." But she held fast, keeping him from moving. Frowning, he turned back to her. "What's wrong?"

"Hikoshu, I'm so sorry for all of this." It seemed like the wrong place for an apology, but she looked desperate enough that he didn't argue. "You probably don't remember, but a long time ago, you said you'd be a friend to a lonely girl who didn't have anyone else."

"The night at the Air Temple," Hikoshu said, the memory flashing briefly before his eyes. "Your hair was in your face." She smiled at the recollection, though it seemed terribly sad.

"I know you won't believe me. But you really were my only friend. And with everything that's happened since then – all these mistakes and misunderstandings, and everything in between – I still want to be _your_ friend."

"Yan-lin," he said impatiently as he glanced toward the stairwell, "we have to go. Let's do this later."

"No, we have to do this now!" The insistence in her voice surprised him, catching his attention. "Because I'm not sure I'm going to get another chance, and I want you to know – I _need_ you to know – that everything until this day, I regret. I've done horrible things to you, that I'll never forgive myself for doing. But after today, I won't regret anything I do to you again. I swear, whatever it is, it'll be _for_ you."

Hikoshu supposed he would've been more impressed by her sincerity had he not been so concerned about firebenders appearing at any moment. But he did see something in her eyes that made him hesitate, and uneasily, he pulled his hand out of her grip.

"Yan-lin, I believe you. And I forgive you. Everyone gets a second chance." He gave her a reassuring smile, which she didn't return. "Let's just go." Ignoring the warning bells now sounding in his head, he turned toward the door.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He didn't register the pain at first, so much as the sensation of something sliding along his spine. But then it was there – a skewering pain that sunk deep into him, radiating along the bottom of his ribs and into his chest. Dully, Hikoshu reached behind him and felt the long handle of a knife sticking out of his back. And bewildered, he turned again to Yan-lin.

Her hands shook. Backing away from him, she clutched her stomach as if she was going to be sick. "Please don't die, Hikoshu."

It was the strangest request, one he wasn't sure if he was supposed to fulfill or ignore. But then he was falling, his legs weak. And his mind was clouding. And his eyes were going black, like a candle blown out.

_Miyo, wait_.

In moments, everything was gone.


	47. Hopeless

**Warnings: **Blood. Lots of blood. Not gore. Just...blood.

* * *

**Chapter 46 – Hopeless**

* * *

Natquik wiped at his forehead with the crook of his elbow, leaving black smudges on the wool of his sleeve. A sleeve that had managed to remain relatively clean for most of the night, despite the soot that stained his face and fingers. "We'll need disguises. And maybe some fake firebending."

Though Kinu had agreed to help him out on this venture, he now seemed less than enthusiastic about the plan. Both were seated cross-legged, facing each other in the center of the room. Kinu's straggly blue-robed form, still lithe despite his age, was relaxed and receptive – a posture that belied his readiness, as Natquik knew he could be on his feet at any moment, given the slightest provocation.

Now, though, he watched Natquik with a frown that accentuated the sagging wrinkles around his whiskered chin, blue eyes half-lidded. "Fake firebending? How do you propose that?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but maybe something that involves lamp oil?"

Kinu's interest waned even further as the plan came apart. "Lamp oil?"

"Well, the disguises work, more or less," Natquik said with faltering conviction, combing his loose hair out of his face, "but without Hikoshu to show we're actual firebenders, then we need to be prepared if we're challenged."

"And lamp oil is going to do that," Miyo chimed in dryly somewhere behind him. He looked over his shoulder to spy her in the alcove that had been Sahani's bed, her legs tucked up under her yellow habit. Though her eyes were still painfully red and her cheeks swollen from both sleep and tears, Miyo had regained most of her composure. And now she turned that 'composure' on him, her lips drawn into a pert frown, arms folded below her breasts.

Natquik quelled a twinge of irritation. "Well, you're free to contribute, too."

"No, no, it sounds like you have _everything_ handled." The sarcasm was dripping from her voice as she waved a hand at their small, informal meeting. Sahani, seated next to her, seemed to agree, her usually soft blue eyes narrowed at them harshly. But when Kinu turned an unhappy frown on the women, she shrank behind Miyo.

Miyo, on the other hand, didn't recoil from his admonishing glare, her back actually becoming more rigid in a very non-airbenderish way. "I mean, honestly, red robes and lamp oil. How could you _not_ infiltrate the very depths of the Fire Temple with that plan?"

"You know, instead of criticizing us, you could actually give us some ideas."

She was angry. He knew she was angry. But someone had to keep Sahani out of harm's way, and she was the only one who could fly Rosma. She should've been reasonable about the plan, yet instead Miyo was taking it as a personal insult, as if they didn't think she was capable of flattening the Fire Island itself to get to Hikoshu.

Natquik understood. And sympathized. Being left out of a plan to save her best friend had to be hard to accept. But he was working on only a couple of hours of sleep, and he didn't have time or the patience to debate it with her.

"I did give you some ideas," Miyo said, her arrow wrinkling with her own impatience. "Two waterbenders, one airbender – we could easily just force our way to him. A much better plan than trying to pass yourselves off as firebenders, considering how well that worked all night."

"First of all, you are a pacifist." Natquik held up a finger to point out the problems with her suggestion, his neck still craned to regard her over his shoulder. "Second, and this is very important – we don't know where Hikoshu is. And there are a _lot_ of firebenders. Believe me, I've seen them all."

"Can't we just leave here and go to the Fire Lord?" Sahani said, drawing yet another reproachful look from a far too overprotective Kinu. But she had gained some strength from Miyo, and she stood her ground. "You keep trying to figure out ways to attack from the inside, but maybe what we need is some help from the outside."

"Nizan's not going to help us." Natquik didn't know what the Fire Lord's part had been in all of this. But he suspected that, even if wholly innocent, Nizan wouldn't believe them, much less help them. "And I don't trust anyone outside of this room, anyway. If we leave here, we lose our last chance of freeing Hikoshu, simple as that. So we have to do it now."

"Have you ever thought, perhaps, that the best thing to do _might_ be to leave him?" Kinu asked, and that brought the conversation to an abrupt halt. They all looked to him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to indignation. He returned their gazes calmly, his gaunt face indifferent. "He's never going to be the Avatar again. The Great Sage has no intention of killing him. If you're really acting in his best interests, why not let him live what little life he has left?"

"You're actually suggesting we leave him in the hands of the men who nearly murdered him," Miyo said incredulously. This time, she did withdraw from his frown.

"I'm suggesting you do not torment him by forcing him to live as a pale imitation of his former self."

Natquik had to admit, he'd had the same idea. Saving Hikoshu now seemed almost superfluous; he couldn't be saved, not truly, and it'd do nothing but relieve their own guilty consciences while serving to prolong Hikoshu's suffering.

But one look at the despair that flashed across Miyo's face, and his resolve returned. "We should let Hikoshu make that decision." It was odd taking the role of leader right then. Kinu was by right and by nature his superior, and Miyo had been the uniting force of their group for the last four weeks. But now they all looked to him for direction, as if his opinions were more valid than they were two nights ago. "So let's just figure out how to get him here."

"Stop talking," Miyo suddenly snapped, and every head turned to her in surprise. Her gaze was focused on the door, her dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Yet nothing but silence followed her short command, and they all waited awkwardly for her to relax her guard. "I thought I heard screaming."

"You're tired," Natquik said as he rubbed at his nose. She'd been startled awake once already by the sounds of imaginary screams, and Natquik suspected that wasn't the worst she was going to hear in the days to come. "These walls are too thick for that." Miyo looked hurt by his dismissal, but not doubtful of it.

"Is it wise for us to be doing anything while exhausted?" Sahani asked, and it was a fairly good question. "Maybe we can't come up with any ideas because we're too tired to think straight."

"Excellent point, _ujuruk_." Kinu clasped his shoulder in obvious pain. "But we also run low on time. If we don't leave soon, they may change their mind and not let us leave at all."

The group fell into silence again, each person dwelling on the sheer infeasibility of saving Hikoshu. It was probably the first time since the beginning of the trip that Natquik actually felt disheartened. Up until this point, there was always hope. Even when the difficulties were insurmountable and the plans ridiculously insufficient, he still thought it'd turn out alright. Naturally, the events of the previous night had robbed him of all that.

"Maybe…" Miyo said, long after the silence had turned uncomfortable. "Maybe Shaman Kinu's right." The words were forced, as if she was struggling to say them past a clenching throat. "Maybe we're being selfish, intending to risk two lives to save one."

"Miyo, no," Natquik said hastily, but she spoke right over him, her eyes fixed on the low-set table beside them as if the wood might give her fortitude.

"I love him, Natquik, but I can't ask you _or_ Shaman Kinu to do something like that. And I think we've talked about this long enough now to realize that it's pretty much hopeless. We simply don't have the time or the strength."

"Hikoshu risked his life to save you and Sahani." Was he really trying to talk Miyo _into_ saving Hikoshu? Just another sign of how mad the world had become. "That's worth at least as much from us."

Miyo's face twisted with old emotion as her eyes finally slid to his, those gray irises clouded with bleak thoughts. "He wouldn't want this, Natquik. He'd want you to go home. He'd want everything he lost for us to _mean_ something, and if you're hurt…" She trailed off weakly, then shook her head. "I don't want to lose you both."

Natquik was rendered momentarily speechless. Admittedly, she had a point – if Hikoshu knew what they were doing, he would've told them all to leave. Just because that was the kind of person he was. But even if Natquik wasn't honor-bound to help the man he'd ruined, he was indebted to Hikoshu for sacrificing himself for them. The fact that Hikoshu was a friend whom Natquik would've helped anyway didn't have to enter into it. He _had_ to try, whether or not it went against what Hikoshu wanted.

Yet it wasn't Miyo's sudden change-of-heart that left him speechless. Rather, they were her last words, combined with the hint of fear in her tense, trembling chin. Natquik realized then that what he'd interpreted as a purely selfless desire to respect Hikoshu's wishes was in part motivated by an essentially selfish reason.

She was afraid of what might happen to Natquik. They were friends, of course, and her concern for his well-being wasn't surprising. What _was _surprising, though, was that she would, just once, put his well-being over Hikoshu's.

Very surprising.

They were all startled by a thump at the door, the loud noise distracting them from the argument. With an uncertain look to Miyo, Natquik got up. While it was touching that she was worried for him, he couldn't let her fears influence their decision. Not when it wasn't about her, or even him. But, still, Natquik mused, it _was_ kind of nice that she cared so much. Kind of really nice. Shoving back his thoughts, he pulled open the heavy door.

Behind it was Yan-lin, who looked up at him from the ground with a sickly, waxen expression. And under her blood-stained hands lay Hikoshu's supine form, dressed in a Sage's robe.

Miyo actually registered the scene faster than he did, and her shouts of Hikoshu's name somehow pulled him from his frozen horror. Stooping, he grabbed the firebender under the arms and dragged him into the room. A long, wet trail of blood followed his body.

Everyone was in motion. Kinu had jumped up for the water pitcher, and Miyo was practically under Natquik's feet in her attempts to help pull him in. Sahani sprinted past them toward the door in order to watch the halls, while Yan-lin stood beside the entrance, wringing her bloody hands as she babbled incoherently.

"They stabbed him! Kazuo saved us, but they stabbed him, and…Natquik, there's so much blood!"

"Miyo, get back!" He almost had to shove the airbender away, finally dropping Hikoshu in the middle of the room. He couldn't make it to the bed – Hikoshu was already losing too much blood. Kinu was now at his side with the water jar, setting it a safe distance away as Natquik pushed Hikoshu onto his stomach. There, neatly between his last two ribs, was a thin tear in the Sage's tunic. A wide, dark stain encircled it, nearly indistinct from the crimson robes.

"Yan-lin, what happened?" He had to work quickly. Using the tear as a starting point, he ripped the tunic open, all the way from Hikoshu's sash to his neck. The skin underneath was streaked with red, but the cut was clean – a thin incision that welled with blood next to his spine.

"We ran into some Sages," she sounded more collected, though he couldn't look up at her. "We had almost made it here when we ran into them in the hallway. They…they went after Hikoshu, but Kazuo stopped them. Except one had a knife." She gave a gut-wrenching moan.

He was already examining the wound, blue light spilling from his hand. The cut was deep – and very bad. It'd just missed the kidney and spine, but it had caught an important artery. Hikoshu was bleeding into his body.

"How long ago, Yan-lin?" When she didn't answer immediately, he repeated the question with a bit more urgency. "Yan-lin! Tell me."

"I don't know. Three minutes?" It was sooner than that. Hikoshu was alive, but just barely, his pulse growing fainter along with his bizarrely arranged _chi_. He was dying.

The cut was easy enough to heal. Within a few moments, Natquik had sealed the artery as well as the surrounding tissues, stitched up as neatly as if Hikoshu had never been injured. Still, it did nothing to lessen Natquik's anxiety; the greatest concern was no longer how much blood Hikoshu was going to lose, but how much he'd lost already.

"Is he alive?" Miyo asked in a shaking voice. She'd refused to get away as Natquik instructed and was beside him, clutching Hikoshu's head. With a quick glance, Natquik saw that his cheek was as white as a corpse, and his skin was cold under his hand.

"Yes," he said shortly, still searching through Hikoshu's body. There wasn't any other damage, but his pulse remained weak. He'd bled out too much, and blood wasn't something that Natquik could replace. "It's not good."

And just as he said those words, Hikoshu's pulse suddenly dropped. Then quit.

"Oh spirits," Natquik murmured, yanking on his shoulder to flip him on his back. Hikoshu responded limply, his head jerking out of Miyo's grasp as she stammered a panicked "What?"

Ignoring her question, he pushed her out of the way again and leaned close to Hikoshu's mouth. "Kinu, I need you to heat some water. Miyo, get blankets."

Not breathing, either. Pinching his nose, Natquik pushed his mouth onto Hikoshu's and gave two deep breaths. Then he tore open the front of his tunic, bended some water onto his chest, and tried to restart Hikoshu's heart.

The _chi_ was still flowing in its bizarre course, and that was exactly what Natquik wanted. So long as the _chi_ flowed, Hikoshu was still alive. So he worked hard to keep it going by making Hikoshu's heart beat.

Under the pressure of his bending, the muscle shuddered, its blood churning sluggishly. In any other situation, this would be expressly forbidden. Manipulation of another's body – in all contexts – was an incredibly unsafe practice that required a great amount of concentration and an even greater amount of skill. Even Natquik couldn't say he knew what he was doing. But caught up in the moment, he did it without thinking, his only intention to keep Hikoshu alive.

Still, Hikoshu couldn't survive if his heart wouldn't work on its own. And just as Natquik began to wonder what else he could do, the odd bronze glow of his friend's _chi_ dwindled, then ceased.

Stunned, Natquik sat back on his heels, the water trickling away from his hand. It took him a moment to register the room beyond the fog of his shock. To realize that Kinu knelt across from him, that pitcher of warm water at his side. Or to notice that Miyo had piled all the blankets – even a mattress – on Hikoshu's legs as if his success entirely hinged on how warm she could make his feet.

It took him several moments to recognize that they were still fighting to save Hikoshu, while Natquik fought to understand how he'd failed.

Finally, he managed to hold up a hand, signaling them to stop. Somewhere beyond the overwhelming sense of loss, he knew they were all staring at him. Expectant. Still hopeful.

"What? What is it?" Miyo asked in a panic, leaning forward as if to see Hikoshu's eyes flutter open.

Natquik shook his head, unable to find the words. Not sure if he wanted her to know, nor if he wanted to be the one to tell her.

"Miyo…he's dead."

* * *

**A/N: **Crazy-short chapter, but it wouldn't have worked well combined with the next one. So here's an _enormous_ A/N to make up for it. As usual, I don't have much to say other than notes and things that bothered me in the chapter, so you're welcome to skip all of this if nothing bothered you.

First off, notes on canon. This was written _long_ before The Puppetmaster aired. We literally had no canon on 'bloodbending' other than it being, theoretically, possible. So I went off the natural assumption that it was possible – just not done due to its huge ethical issues.

Twelve months later, we're now all aware that bloodbending was discovered by Hama, and can only be performed by incredibly gifted waterbenders on a full moon. As always, I either have to change my story or reinterpret canon. This scene's important enough, though, that I opted for the latter. I can assume that, in a thousand years, something like bloodbending has become a lost art, just like swampbenders have become a lost Water Tribe. And while most waterbenders might have to wait for a full moon, Natquik's natural ability (which I swear is not just a plot device and I swear will be addressed in depth eventually) lends him to accomplish such things on a micro-scale. ie, internal body bending, but no external body bending. I should also say I hate the term 'bloodbending' and will never use it in-text. I can't even say it in my head without mocking myself. Though 'body bending' doesn't sound much better. It's like weightlifting meets Cirque du Soleil.

Anyway, because of kind pseudo-anon reviewer (thanks Zak!), I'm trying to put a little more description in the text. I've got a love-hate relationship with description. The first fifteen chapters or so, I wrote with a _lot_ of it, because I wanted to capture the essence of the world. The last 25 or so, I wrote with barely any at all, because a) I suck at it and b) I was way more into the plot than the scene-setting. I've gotten complaints from others that my first fifteen chapters have way too much description and not enough action. Now I'm getting reviews that say my description's a little 'blah.' There's a happy medium, I know it, so please – if you remember any scene that I described adequately, without doing too much or too little – let me know so I can review what I was doing there.


	48. The Upturned Tree

**Chapter 47 – The Upturned Tree**

* * *

He knew who he was. And he knew his own name. That, Hikoshu thought, must be worth something. Dressed in heavy layers of crimson silk, he realized that he was wearing a Fire Sage's ceremonial robes – no, _his_ ceremonial robes, as he noted the wider sleeves and the shorter round cap on his head. So wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, it had to be important.

There 'where' was a little trickier, though he quickly identified it as the Spirit World. There was no place in the mortal realm that had such an immaterial feel to it – such a sense of impermanence, as if it would cease to exist the moment he turned around. Yet this was not a part of the Spirit World he'd ever seen before. Nothing like the white deserts that Sidhari called home.

The land was yellow, half-hidden in fog. Sparse, rocky outcrops dotted the thick mist, from which sprang only a few twisted trees. They grew on narrow trunks, their canopies like mushrooms that dripped black leaves. Some seemed to float on the horizon, and Hikoshu decided on second thought that maybe they actually did.

But his attention was drawn to the landscape directly before him. Where one gnarled tree, far more deformed than its kindred, towered above the fog around its trunk. Where its barren branches spread to the sky, as if trying to claw past the strange brownish haze that blotted out the sun.

Hikoshu had an uneasy feeling. Whatever this place was, it wasn't the familiar, protected Spirit World that he had visited under Sidhari's careful watch. It was wild, hostile. Disturbing. Though his skin crawled with the thought of what lurked under the fog cover, Hikoshu knew he couldn't just stand there. So with a deep, if unnecessary, breath, he headed for the tree – the only landmark in an alien world.

The patch of land he was standing on had been just an island on the sea of fog. As he stumbled down the slope, the mist rose up to engulf him, swirling around his waist and arms. It clung oddly, as if attracted to something about him. When he waved his hand, the dense blanket moved a little, but it quickly returned, neither wet nor cold. Like everything else there, it had no substance. Just form.

Hikoshu didn't realize he was wading through a shallow lake at first, so eerily quiet was the world and so invisible was his waist. But then he felt resistance against his legs, and through the creeping fog, he thought he saw black ripples of water. Its appearance jarred a memory from his life in the mortal world – like a memory of another memory, and of a face that stared into those dark depths. But like the ripples, the thought drifted away from him before he could catch it, also swallowed by the fog.

The ground eventually began to rise, carrying him closer to the tree. It now loomed over him, an eerie sentinel that didn't seem to belong to this world, despite its wretched appearance. Caught there, it presided over an empty land, both guard and captive. Unable to do little more than warn those who might risk being caught, as well.

As he neared a ramp carved naturally into its stone base, Hikoshu kept his eyes on the tree limbs. For some reason, they didn't branch like normal branches would. Rather, they sprouted directly from that wide trunk. And they stuck out at abnormal angles, forming a thicket rather than a canopy.

Like roots. Surprised, he stopped to stare at them for a long moment, and came to the conclusion that his guess was right. The tree was growing upside down, its branches piercing the rock he now climbed, its roots stretching toward the sky. For some reason, this unsettled Hikoshu far more than anything else about the landscape.

Slipping under a _paifang_ arch that bore no writing, Hikoshu made his way up the rock face. Something inside him was shrieking for him to leave – to get away from there as fast as he could. It had to be his instinct that always warned him when there was about to be trouble, but Hikoshu simply could not help it this time. Even if he'd wanted to make himself turn away, his legs wouldn't have obeyed. So with curiosity that held only a trace of dread, he walked toward a gaping hole gouged into the rock.

This, he knew, was supposed to be the end of his journey. Where he was meant to go.

He paused before the black, yawning cave with a vague but familiar sense of unease. It looked like something else from a memory. But just as before, he grasped at nothing, his thoughts flitting through his fingers.

"Come to see him?" croaked a stranger, and he jerked his head up in surprise. Several paces above him, a blue creature clung to the tree, almost as decrepit as the bark itself. Its body, though misshapen, still wore the remnants of human clothes, and he wondered briefly if it had once worn those clothes as a human should. Now, it grinned at him with fangs that nearly touched its nose, and squinted eyes red as rust.

"Come to see who?" Hikoshu asked. Though revolted by the spirit, he also felt curiously detached. As if talking to a blue demon was perfectly normal. He supposed for this world, it was.

The creature cackled, and lifted a knobby arm nearly the length of its body. Stringy tendons stood out as it picked its teeth with a tapered finger, its eyes glowing in amusement. "You don't come to see him, and yet you go into his home." It gave a strange whoop, then swung higher on the trunk, already crawling away. "Be sure to give him a smile! He loves it when you smile!" The words faded as its figure disappeared along the bark, and a moment later, Hikoshu was again alone.

Well, at least he now knew there was someone inside. Perhaps if he could've felt anything more than bizarre detachment, Hikoshu would have turned back. He _knew _he should be worried, some tiny part still begging him to leave, but he just didn't care. So adjusting his cap, he braced himself for what else could lie in wait, then marched headlong into the darkness.

The inside of the cave was much larger than it had seemed from the outside, the vast chamber empty save where leafless branches jutted into its interior. There were wide steps cut into the stone, descending gradually, and as the light behind him began to fade, Hikoshu noticed the limbs protruding from the ceiling and walls. As if the cave were half rock and half living plant. Mistrustful of how the tree could grow _into _the cave, Hikoshu brought up his hand to bend a light.

Nothing happened.

And then suddenly, it all came back in a rush. Kanzagan's death, the North Pole, the Fire Temple. Even the qu-dan. Reeling, Hikoshu clutched the wall of the cave as the memories battered at him, leaving him no time to understand what it all meant. But there seemed to be one thing that he understood with crushing certainty, and the thought pounded through his mind. He was dead.

Murdered. Betrayed by Yan-lin, yet again.

So was this the after-life? A creepy lake on the edge of nowhere? Somehow, he doubted it, but he couldn't honestly understand what else it was. Why was he here, and not with Sidhari? Where was Sidhari, anyway? Struggling with questions he had no answers to, Hikoshu moved further into the cave, the light dimming far behind him.

Perhaps he really had reached the end of his time. But he didn't feel any different than he had moments ago. Or hours ago – time suddenly grew very fuzzy in his mind, and he couldn't quite place how long he'd been there. It could have been days since the Fire Temple, or even an eternity. Nothing seemed to exist outside of this realm, outside of this very tree. And with only one direction to choose from, Hikoshu continued down into its bowels.

Eventually the light had faded to an indefinable yellow aura, illuminating nothing and blurring everything. There was a smell now that he hadn't caught before – a smell of decay and age, as if something had died long ago. And in a world where nothing could be alive, he found himself wondering about the ancient tree growing above him.

The gentle scuttle of invisible feet drew his attention left, and he scanned the bottom of the faint chamber for signs of life. But there was nothing – just stalagmites and branches, meeting to form a complex maze of twisted columns. Reaching the end of the steps, he kept close to the wall and cleared his throat.

"Is anyone here?"

"Avatar." The voice was hoarse, almost a hiss, but also deep. Something in its tone echoed ominously, warning him to leave now, and he once more ignored his natural instinct to run. "I never imagined you would come here again."

"Who are you?" He turned carefully in the chamber, searching out the source of the introduction. Again, he snapped around at the sound of a creature scurrying over rock. Again, the darkness was uninterrupted.

"Ah. I see. You don't even know why you're here." Its tone was mocking, cruel. "Very few who enter my lair ignorant leave that way. In fact, very few who enter my lair leave at all." It seemed amused by its own joke, a chuckle shaking pebbles loose from the ceiling.

Hikoshu waved a hand to clear the dust from the air, though it was needless; he couldn't see much, anyway. "I was hoping you'd clear the matter up for me. Why I'm here."

"Oh, I'm sure I can." It was then that the spirit decided to reveal itself. Darting from nowhere – so quickly that Hikoshu stumbled – a black, bloated body wrapped itself around him. It looked both oily and hard, undulating with worm-like movements as its spindly legs scratched across the floor – a centipede almost as large as an air bison.

But it was really the face, or rather the lack of, that captured his attention. It swerved neatly to follow his gaze as he tried to regain his balance, and he studied it in rising terror inches from his nose. It was a theater mask of some sort, white porcelain façade with gray outlined eyes and bright red lips. Yet it _moved_ as if it were alive, the lips twisting into a sadistic smile that seemed to delight in his disgust, the empty eyes half-lidded as it considered him vacantly.

"Truly, you jest with me, Avatar. You give in so easily, I wonder if I really should believe your sincerity." The voice issuing from that mask was as hollow as its eyes. "Or if I should just have you now and be done."

"I assure you, I'm not joking," he said as the face, set high on a body that crept on insect legs, began to circle him. "I think…I think I died and was sent here by mistake." It was strange to say such a thing aloud, his mind unable to fully grasp its meaning.

"You are quite wrong on both accounts." The spirit was behind him now, its mocking voice several feet above his head. "But, Avatar, I imagine you have grown accustomed to being so mistaken." He felt it lean over him, hovering precariously near his hat. Tiny, glistening claws pressed against his shoulders like blades and plucked at the cloth.

And suddenly, another memory came to him. Someone else's memory.

"You," Hikoshu said, turning to look the creature in its lifeless face. "You did something to the qu-dan."

Slowly, it smiled, as if recalling a fond friend, and those lazy eyes stared blankly into his. "Yes, the qu-dan. We've known each other a very long time." Then, much to Hikoshu's horror, the face blinked.

Thick lids pulled over the entire mask, covering it like one huge eye, and when they pulled back, the spirit's face had changed entirely. Instead of a porcelain theater mask, it was now that of a young woman, her oval-shaped face smiling serenely at him with deep green eyes.

Hikoshu lifted an arm to fend off the creature, so hideously at odds with itself. The girl seemed to find this response even more amusing, and it rumbled a laugh.

Peering over his wrist at the insect-turned-woman, Hikoshu shuddered. "What are you?"

"Like you, I am known by many names and just as many faces. But I believe that you know me simply as Koh."

The name was strangely familiar, from some place in the recent past. Was it something he'd heard in the qu-dan's memory? Finding it hard to concentrate with the girl studying him so intently, he retreated a few steps.

"You're the one. The spirit that tells the qu-dan what to say." He had to stop when his calves hit Koh's body, and he jerked away as if burned.

"I tell the qu-dan what I see. She chooses what she says." It blinked, and another woman's face appeared, longer and with more defined cheeks. Staring down her nose at him, Koh smirked.

Hikoshu couldn't tear his eyes away. Desperately, he searched his memory of the previous cave, trying to recall whatever had been said of this spirit. But all he could remember was the stabbing pain in his head, and the words whispered to the qu-dan. "You see the future, then?"

"Flattering. But I do not _see_ the future." It was moving now, slithering over the ground as it wrapped its coiled body tighter around him. "I just know human nature. Let's say I've become rather adept at reading faces."

Hikoshu moved with it, unwilling to let the spirit behind his back. "But all the betrayals she predicted. How could you have known?"

"Humans always betray, don't they, Avatar?"

It was then that Hikoshu remembered what the qu-dan had said – why that name had sounded familiar. _You'll be Koh's. _If she had given him that prediction, and if Koh was the one to give it to her…"You intended for me to come see you."

"Don't give me undue credit." Its face changed into that of a man, a hideous scar running through what used to be his left eye. The expression seemed annoyed briefly, before twisting into something more mirthful. "It was your doing that led you here. Looking curiously into things that were not yours to look into. I imagine my claw gave you quite a nasty scratch."

As if on cue, the cut on the side of Hikoshu's thumb that never did properly heal began to sting, even though he knew he had no body to feel it with. "That claw was yours?"

"Indeed. A gift to the qu-dan for her…services." The vague joke filled the scarred man's face with humor as Koh circled him again. But Hikoshu barely registered it, his mind rolling over the events in the qu-dan's cave. How he had ignored Yan-lin's pleas and opened the box. How they had then barely escaped with their lives. And how Yan-lin had blamed him.

Yan-lin…

"You said I'm not dead." He switched the subject. At the moment, he was less interested in the qu-dan and more interested in the present circumstance. "What am I, then?"

"You are the remaining light between dusk and evening. You are the time between one heartbeat and the next." Koh paused in its languid crawl over the stone and pinned him with its one complete eye. "Need I go on?"

"So I'm alive, but just barely?"

Koh laughed – a humorless laugh filled more with pity than with kindness. "You never were gifted with metaphor." It blinked, and suddenly it was an old man with long eyebrows, his lips wrinkled with age. "You are neither, right now. You were once alive and you will soon be dead. Just an instant, and you will continue your cycle, born into yet another generation of mortals struggling for no consequence."

"But if I'm not yet dead, there must still be a way to get back," Hikoshu pressed, and the old man sneered unpleasantly.

"You cling to your mortality, Avatar? You are an immortal spirit, nearly as old as I. What difference is one face from the next?"

"The difference is that there are people I love." Even as he said it, he knew it was the wrong argument to use, and Koh twisted around as its expression changed to a glare.

"The great flaw of the Avatar, even as it claims it to be its great strength. Attachments." It hummed in contemplation. "The Avatar is charged with keeping the balance. Yet you would gladly return to a world where you, for all intents and purposes, are crippled, unable to fulfill your basic duty."

"I can't abandon them." But his resolve had weakened. When phrased such a way, it made him sound selfish. After all, wouldn't it be better to die and renew the cycle? Wouldn't that be the right thing to do?

Koh considered him silently, its face blinking almost unconsciously to that of an owl, ruddy eyes as large as offering dishes. Clicking its beak, it finally spoke, the sound unnatural from such a mouth.

"You're fortunate that I can help you. Very few spirits could." It hooted lowly – a somber noise suggestive of some past misery. "But I very rarely _give_ anything, and such is the case right now."

Hikoshu cringed as the spirit hovered close to his face, so close that he could see every feather along its high-set nose. "How can you possibly help me? How can spirits defy death?"

"No, not death, Avatar. And you will surely die." Blink. Some sort of serpent gazed back at him, and it almost matched the rest of its body. But then it smiled a smile that was far too human for the animal watching him with slitted eyes. "However, perhaps I could delay rebirth."

"What good will that do if I'm still to die?"

"It would give you time, and as you may not have realized yet, everything depends on time. Even for us spirits, here in eternity."

Hikoshu's instincts were still clamoring, twisting his immaterial stomach in a frantic attempt to get him to leave. That alone told him he could not trust Koh. Yet, he argued with himself, why couldn't he? What could he possibly lose that he hadn't lost already?

"You said you weren't going to give me help," he continued cautiously. "And I have nothing to offer you in trade for my life. So what are you suggesting?"

"To the point, Avatar. You are always to the point." Koh shifted then, looking away as it crawled toward the stairs. It stopped just short of the steps, as if daunted by the hazy light. "You see, much like you, I am also a spirit of balance. I am ancient, more ancient than you, and I have seen a great many things. And with it has come an understanding of the role that harmony between our worlds plays."

Its legs clicked absently at the air as it stared toward the entrance, the back of its 'head' to him. "There has been an imbalance. A spiritual one, beyond the ability of any spirit to correct." Then it returned its gaze to him, and Hikoshu gasped in recognition of the woman whose face it now wore. "Except you."

"What are you doing with the qu-dan's face?" he asked. The brown eyes, the pale flawless skin – it was the same qu-dan whose memories he had visited. He couldn't forget how she had peered at herself in the water before this spirit, Koh, had embraced her.

Koh smirked with a mouth that wasn't its and slipped toward Hikoshu, who again moved away from it anxiously. "You could call me a collector of sorts. The qu-dan, for centuries, has been obliging."

"You steal faces." The idea wrenched at his intangible heart, making his ribs hurt. And now he knew exactly why his instincts had been desperate for him to leave. "Why haven't you stolen my face yet, then? Has this been a game?"

"Indeed, I could have taken yours at any time." It was highly amused as it lurched to a stop in front of him. Quailing at its vicinity, Hikoshu now noted a hunger in its eyes that he'd missed before. "Every delicious emotion in your face, every line of fear and desire in the wrinkles around your nose and brow – I could have them all. But that would not suit my purpose, nor would it suit yours."

Hikoshu swallowed, trying to steady his nerves. "What do you want, then, Koh?"

"A trade, Avatar. My help for yours."

"What help could I give in this state?"

"No, not in this state. Which is why I am willing to help you return, where you could benefit us both." Blinking, it turned into a swarthy young man with dark blue eyes – a Water Tribesman. "There is a spiritual imbalance that I cannot correct. In exchange for a chance at life, I ask that you correct that imbalance."

The demands weren't nearly as steep as Hikoshu had imagined – after all, correcting imbalances was part of his duty as Avatar. So, really, he wasn't agreeing to anything that he wouldn't have to do otherwise. Was he?

But there was a problem. "How should I do that without my bending?"

"Obviously, our bargain is entirely contingent on you living and re-establishing your spirituality. Without that, our trade will be voided and you will live the rest of your life as a mortal, however short that life is. But if you rediscover your place as Avatar…" Koh chuckled. "I'm sure you don't find the terms unacceptable?"

"I'm hesitant to agree to anything I don't fully understand."

"Ah, but Avatar, I am the only one with time on my side." The young qu-dan grinned, her expression both malicious and confident. "You could also choose the most selfless act. Choose to be reborn into the next season. Become the Air Avatar."

Her grin widened. "But we both know that you won't."

_Die in the summer, reborn in the autumn_, or _die through the spring and reborn through the winter_. That was the choice the qu-dan had given him in the cave. If the first was the cycle, then the second…

So would it work? Or was it simply a chance it might work? Either way, Hikoshu reasoned, the worst that could happen was that he would be reborn. Exactly as if he'd never made the choice at all. So it made sense to try at least. And if it was against the will of the spirits, he would move on.

A simple agreement. Hardly a decision.

"Fine," Hikoshu said, and in front of him, the qu-dan's slender eyebrows quirked with interest. "You have my word that if I survive this, and if I can still bend, I will help you correct this imbalance you see."

"Careful, Avatar. A promise to me is binding."

"All my promises are binding, honorable spirit."

Its face returned once more to the porcelain mask, and it let out a deep, throaty laugh that made Hikoshu shiver.

"So be it. We have an agreement."

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, Koh! It only took, oh...the entire book...It's probably obvious by now, but Koh's realm as portrayed here isn't the same as it is in the show. One major difference is that the lake, as far as we know it, doesn't exist in canon. Aang used little rock precipices to jump to the tree. This will either factor into the story itself at some point, or will factor into the history following this story - I haven't decided. Either way, much like the Western Air Temple, something bad will obviously happen to change the geography. I purposefully chose it this way, both because I wanted to possibly use it in the plot and also because getting Hikoshu to jump from really-high-rock to really-high-rock wasn't going to happen.

Surprisingly enough, this chapter was already chock-full of description. I guess when I wrote it, I was so happy to be describing something that _wasn't_ a room or a building, I went crazy with it. I'd always intended to tone it down, but since the intention now is to be _more_ descriptive, not less, I decided to keep it this way. Let me know if this is a step in the right direction, or perhaps too much of a step.

It'll be at least another eleven days before I post the next chapter. After that, only four or five chapters left. So close to the end…


	49. Resolve

**Chapter 48 – Resolve**

* * *

"No." Miyo wasn't protesting – it was a statement of fact, as if Natquik had misjudged. "No, he can't be." Numb inside, he fell back easily as Miyo pushed him away, taking his spot beside Hikoshu. He watched as she felt for his pulse, checked his eyes – all the little techniques to test for life. And he knew that Hikoshu was failing all of them.

"Hikoshu," she said, then gave a strangled, high-pitched cry. "Hikoshu!"

She covered his mouth and nose with her hand, the other one on his neck. Then, against all reason, Hikoshu's chest began to move.

Awe-struck, Natquik dashed back Hikoshu's side. Perhaps he'd missed something – perhaps he'd declared Hikoshu lost too soon. But just as quickly, the hope faded. Miyo removed her hand from his face with a heartbreaking sob, and he realized that she was simply bending air into him. Choking, she dragged Hikoshu's head and shoulders into her lap and folded herself over him, both of them disappearing under the plaits of her hair.

"Is he really gone?" Yan-lin asked, her voice shaking. Natquik looked up at her, taking in her pale, unsteady appearance, the waxy sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was still in the same tan robes as earlier, though she'd also donned a red cloak. Her hood was thrown back to reveal a bun that was coming loose and an expression that bordered between shock and sick. Knowing she was about to faint, he rose to grab her.

But she didn't faint. Instead, she clutched his arm, her hand leaving a sticky, bloody print on his sleeve, and forced him to meet her eyes. "Natquik, he can't be gone. You have to save him."

Natquik circled an arm around her, half out of comfort, half out of a desire to guide her away from Hikoshu. "I'm sorry, Yan-lin. I can't." From behind them sifted Miyo's uncontrollable weeping, and Kinu's helpless words of sympathy. "He's passed on."

"No, Natquik, you don't understand." She pulled herself out of his grip, her look strained. "You have to heal him. The prediction said you would heal him."

"Yan-lin," he said with both condolence as well as a note of warning. He wanted just as much as anyone for Hikoshu to be alive. But talking that way was not going to make it so, nor was it going to be any good for Miyo to hear. "I can't bring people back from the dead."

"But the prediction said—"

"What prediction?"

"The qu-dan!"

And suddenly, his sadness moved back enough for him to remember his anger at her. Of course, the qu-dan. The whole reason for all of this. Trying hard not to lash out, Natquik kept his voice low.

"Hikoshu is dead. No fortuneteller can bring him back, either."

"The qu-dan said," her voice was also low, but far more intense, "that he would be reborn through the winter. The winter, Natquik! That doesn't refer to the cycle."

"And it refers to me?"

"Please. You're the world's greatest healer. You have to try." Now she looked desperate, and he realized that everyone was listening to their exchange. Even Miyo, who stared up at him with eyes that had been swollen too many times with tears in the last day.

"I can't heal the dead, Yan-lin." He felt disgusted at the thought of even trying. It was inhuman, wrong. Death was a natural process, and no one was meant to interfere. No, he couldn't do it. Natquik couldn't meddle with something that belonged to the realm of the spirits.

Then again, hadn't he done that already in the past night?

His decision was made, though, the moment he caught Miyo's gaze – the way she stared at him, as if suddenly seeing in him a hope she hadn't dared foster until now. "Natquik," she murmured, and her voice tore at his heart, "please try. If there's something, anything…then for Hikoshu. For me."

Natquik had to be tired. Or perhaps insane. But her look of guarded hope was enough to sway him – to convince him that maybe he owed it to them all to try. What he'd done to Hikoshu was enough to warrant at least one attempt. And if the spirits didn't will it, Natquik would fail.

Then all he would have to worry about was Miyo's disappointment.

"Uncle," Sahani said, panic now rising in her voice, and Natquik turned to find her still at the door, her body bent out into the hall to keep watch. Frightened, she spun back toward the room, her eyes wide and her black hair wild about her face. "Men are coming."

"The Sages have returned," Yan-lin gasped. Kinu was immediately on his feet, dragging Sahani back into the room as he slammed the door shut, and Yan-lin grabbed Natquik's arm. "You have to hurry!"

"This isn't going to be fast." He didn't know how he knew it – perhaps because he honestly didn't know what he was doing. It was going to take some time to figure that out. "Kinu, I need you to stall them!"

"I'll do what I can." The old Shaman looked up from Sahani, whom he had hidden in one of the beds again. "But there are a lot of men out there." Despite his doubtful words, Kinu bended around him nearly all the remaining water from the pitcher, then strode for the door.

"Miyo." Natquik ducked down to her side to pull her from her vigil over Hikoshu's body. Slowly, she turned to gaze at him, threatening tears once more. "You have to go with Kinu and hold off the firebenders while I do this."

"I can't leave him," she said firmly, and he fought back desperation. The Sages were hammering on the door now, their voices blocked by the wood.

"If they come in here, I'm not going to be able to save him." Natquik spoke in a quick hush, holding tight to her shoulder as if to impart some courage. "I can't do this without you. You _have_ to fight for Hikoshu now, understand? Please, Miyo, I need you." Then, seeing the doubt in her eyes, he added, "You can do this. You just have to be strong for him."

Perhaps finding that inner-strength she always seemed to long for – or perhaps seeing there was no other way – she nodded and stood, allowing him to take her place by Hikoshu. Outside, a Sage was shouting for them to open the door, his words barely audible.

"Yan-lin, I need you over here." He grabbed the pitcher that Kinu had left, though there was only a small amount of water inside. Quelling a brief rush of despair, he set it down and pushed Hikoshu's robes open, the unhealed wound once more exposed. The skin was surprisingly warm around the cut, quite unlike the chill that had settled in his face.

Beside the door, Kinu and Miyo were plotting, their plans drowned out by the ever-more insistent demands of the Sage behind it. But he didn't have time to concentrate on what they were doing. They had their job to do, and he had his.

"You're going to have to breathe for him," Natquik said as Yan-lin sat by him. "When I signal, you pinch his nose with one hand, open his mouth with the other, and breathe in. Hard breaths, too. Enough to make his chest rise. Understood?" She gave an irresolute nod as she removed her cape.

Somewhere to his left, Natquik heard the door swing open, and the Sages' voices grow in volume. But then there was a loud 'boom' that shook the room, and a moment later, the door shut soundly.

He didn't look up as he bended water onto Hikoshu's chest. Nor did he dwell on the idea that several of them may die for a man who was already dead. Asking the spirits for forgiveness, he merely placed his hand over Hikoshu's heart and began to bend.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"When I open this door," Kinu murmured, as collected as though they were planning a meditative retreat rather than an attack, "you will hit them with a force of air. Can you do that?"

Miyo nodded distantly, her eyes drawn back to Hikoshu no matter how hard she struggled to ignore him. Under Natquik's hands, he looked so vulnerable. So little like the man she loved. How angry he would be to find himself on the floor, helpless, while everyone else fought to save him.

"Airbender!" Her gaze snapped back to Kinu's, and she found no pity there. "Do you understand?" She could barely hear him over the pounding on the door and the pounding of her heart. It was ridiculous even to have this conversation; she would have to fight whether she could or not.

"Yes." She strengthened her resolve. Every day before this, she had hesitated. But not today. Kinu gave one sharp nod and reached for the handle with a free hand, a large clump of ice in the other. Positioning herself behind him, she shifted into an airbending stance.

Today, she would take all of this sadness and anger and hatred of the world, and she would make it into a little ball of air in her stomach. When it exploded, it would swallow everything, even her. There would be nothing left standing.

Miyo didn't even see the firebenders behind the door. The moment that it opened, she folded her arms in, twisted back, and heaved with everything she had.

The air thundered as it slammed into the two men, and they were thrown against the far wall, each landing with a smack before they slid to the floor. But she didn't look at them. She made sure that any errant glance would only be spared for Hikoshu, over whom Natquik was bent, his hands glowing blue.

Kinu moved past her, slipping into the hall as he bended the ice back into water. It became a whip just as she found her spot behind him, her back to his. Four firebenders faced her, and she knew a similar number faced Kinu. But she knew he'd protect her, just as she would protect him.

So Miyo dismissed Kinu from her mind as the Sages in unison stepped forward to level a wave of fire on her. Nimbly, she spun and parted the flames with her arms to either side, then cupped her hands to shove at the air. One firebender shot backwards in the resultant blast.

Miyo supposed, if she'd had a chance to think, she would have been exhilarated at the prospect of her training finally coming into play. But at that moment, all she thought was that they would not get to Hikoshu.

Swerving to avoid another blast, she pushed forward.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Yan-lin was strangely distracted. Natquik noted it despite being engrossed in his bending. It was almost as if she didn't want to look at Hikoshu, as her eyes anxiously followed the unseen battle outside the door.

Wary, he diverted his attention back to Hikoshu and to the task at hand. The key was to get the blood flowing. Even without _chi_, a body could essentially exist as long as its heart beat. But he would have to substitute as Hikoshu's _chi_ and make his heart beat for him.

There were innumerable taboos he was breaking by doing this. Any man would be ostracized for committing the smallest of them, and any man would be put to death for the worst. _Chi_ manipulation intending to harm, other-body manipulation, tampering with the dead – the list was long and horrific. And the only way Natquik could keep going was with the knowledge that he had to do something. That maybe he _could_ do something, and that perhaps the good which came of it would offset all of the bad.

"Yan-lin." She looked at him dully, then nodded, her braid finally falling loose of its bun as she leaned over Hikoshu's head. She would have to breathe for him; all the blood in the world was worthless without breath. It would become _chi_ in his body, hopefully, and perhaps the flow would correct itself. But even as Yan-lin rose, Hikoshu's chest collapsing under his hand, Natquik knew it hadn't worked. So he kept trying.

Sahani was next to the door, having pulled it open enough to watch the fight. He didn't ask her to go back to her bed – she wouldn't have listened to him anyhow. Always a stubborn girl, she sometimes acted more foolish than brave. Still, Natquik felt a pang of regret that she had to see this at all. If only there'd been a way to get her out of there. If only they'd had more time...

"Get on the other side and try breathing from there," he instructed Yan-lin, more to get her out of his way than anything. She nodded again and stood, shifting her robes so that she could step over Hikoshu.

The moving fabric exposed the top of her boot briefly, and he saw the flash of something familiar. The leather-wrapped hilt of a knife, dotted with tiny blue beads.

Before she could take her seat, Natquik reached forward and seized the bone handle, pulling it deftly from her boot. It didn't catch her leg, though he wasn't sure he would've cared if it had. The knife was his, abandoned at the Ambassador's Wing. And the usually silver metal was smeared with half-dried blood.

When Natquik finally looked to her, Yan-lin stared back in dawning horror, her eyes moving from him to the blade as if afraid either one would attack her. Slowly kneeling once more, she put her hands on Hikoshu's shoulder.

"You don't understand."

"You're right. I don't." He flung the knife away from him, and it skittered loudly across the stone floor, causing Yan-lin to wince. "I don't understand at all what you're playing at."

"You said that the only thing that would save him was death, and-and I realized…the prediction."

Natquik had reached his breaking point. Disgusted, he turned back to Hikoshu and continued to bend the poor man's heart. There were people now fighting for the Avatar; if they were to be hurt or killed, Natquik would make sure it was for something.

"Get back over there and breathe," he growled. Swaying as if hit, she obeyed and returned to her position by Hikoshu's head. "There will be consequences after this, Yan-lin."

She didn't answer. And Natquik tried to resist the fury-driven urge to make her pay for everything.


	50. A Fight

**Chapter 49 – A Fight  
**

* * *

Hikoshu was going to be sick. Groaning, he fell to one knee and grabbed his stomach. His stomach that shouldn't even exist in this world, he thought wildly, but it did nothing to staunch the agony that seared through his abdomen.

"What's happening?" he gasped, and Koh's black body moved in front of him.

"You are dying, Avatar." It was apathetic, unimpressed by his throes.

"But – our deal!"

"Don't worry. I will keep to our agreement." The disembodied voice rumbled somewhere above him, and he felt his vision fading for a second time. So much pain, traveling through his chest and into his mind. With a cry, he fell completely to the floor, his hands groping at the dusty stone.

"Make it stop!" He moaned as he curled into himself. It was a hundred – a _thousand _times worse than anything Natquik had inflicted on him. "It hurts!"

"I could make it stop," Koh said casually. "But then you would be reborn. And that was not part of our agreement."

"I don't care. Just let me die! Whatever to make it—" he cut off as he screamed, his back arching. It felt as if his muscles were being ripped off his bones. Overwhelmed, his mind went white, unable to feel anything but fire.

As his cries reduced themselves briefly to whimpers, Koh hovered close, its red lips near his ear. "You should see your face," the spirit whispered, its eyes half-shut in bliss. "Such exquisite agony. Such beautiful anguish."

It then pulled away, its voice once more matter-of-fact. "A new body calls for your spirit, Avatar, but you will not leave here. Promises to me are _always_ binding."

Undulating, it seemed to dance to his screams.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Exhausted, Miyo moved without seeing. Constantly on her heel, twisting out of a blast, feeling her hair scorch when one came too close. And wherever a bout of flame would erupt, she would turn there and throw a gust of wind.

Kinu was no longer behind her. The only way she knew that he lived was an occasional stream of water that would crush a Sage against a wall or stab past her. At one point, a Sage she was defending against kicked up an arc of flame. But then a thin slice of water came from the side, and in the next instant, he was on the ground, clutching a bleeding stump of a knee.

That was the only moment that she hesitated – when an innocent Sage permanently lost his leg. It almost cost her, and she had to leap upward to avoid the wave of flames. Then she came down on the other side of the three remaining firebenders, and Kinu was lost in a blaze behind them.

Unrelenting in their aggression, they followed her down the hall. Blocked in so tightly by the walls, she could only dodge their attacks and occasionally land a well-placed blow of air. Yet whichever man was thrown simply picked himself up and rejoined his fellow Sages a moment later. It was a constant attack that would not end until someone was hurt or killed.

Under their assault, she was pushed to the end of the hall, the heavy wood doors of an adjacent hall right behind her. Desperate, she glanced back at the doors, then bended herself into the air, flipping over the Sages to land behind them. In response, they turned to follow her, but she'd already found her feet. Bending a shield to block one lucky fireball, Miyo then threw all of her weight against the air, forcing it forward as if it were one, solid mass.

The three Sages flew back into the other hall, and the large doors, caught in the gust, slammed shut as well. From the other side, she could hear them shouting. But none of them had the strength to move the apparently ancient doors. Weary yet confident, she turned back to the acolytes' rooms.

There were at least five red-robed bodies littering the hallway, though she couldn't tell if they were dead or unconscious. Past them, the blue of Kinu's arms flashed intermittently between the two Sages who still fought him, the ceiling bursting into light with the flames they threw. Despite his age, he was quicker and stronger than the two men his junior, and the small amount of water that should have long ago evaporated still whipped with his hands.

In his preoccupation with the firbenders, Kinu couldn't see the arrival of more Sages from the stairwell behind him. Stunned, Miyo began to raise a shout of warning, even as she started to dash to his aid. Just then, though, the doors behind her exploded, the force of it enough to knock her off her feet.

When she rolled back to a stand, wincing but uninjured, Miyo saw that the doors had literally been ripped off their hinges, the broken wood still burning from the attack. Past the fire and smoke, at least a dozen firebenders were scrambling into the hall, a mixture of red and white as acolytes joined with the original Sages to push their way in.

Miyo was staggered. Four Sages had been too much for her; twelve firebenders would be a veritable slaughter. But she knew that while she lived, they wouldn't get past her.

Lifting her hands, she prepared to fight.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Sahani, shut the door!" Natquik shouted over the din. Unsteady on her feet, the girl obliged reluctantly, sagging against the wood. Already, though, his attention was back on Hikoshu. If anyone came through that door, Natquik knew he'd have to give up on him to protect the two women.

Or at least one of them. Throwing a bitter glance to Yan-lin, he saw that she had finally overcome her aversion to looking at Hikoshu, and now she studied him mournfully. Yan-lin confused Natquik deeply, and not in a wondrous way. Everything she had done seemed to be to Hikoshu's detriment, yet she still had the gall to look regretful, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

Forcing himself to focus, Natquik tiredly bended at his heart, using internal water to keep it beating. It was hopeless – completely pointless, as nothing happened that had any spark of life to it. Still, he ordered Yan-lin to breathe for Hikoshu. She deserved to go through this, too. She deserved to fight for the man she'd put here.

Somewhere outside, another scream erupted, and as before, his blood went cold. If Miyo and Kinu were dead…

With one last glare at Yan-lin, Natquik continued bending.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

It wouldn't stop. The flesh and muscles had been pulled away, and now Hikoshu felt himself being eviscerated. Torn apart on the inside, caught in some sort of limbo that sliced him open slowly.

And over it all, Koh's delighted chuckle.

"Your friends are trying to save you. I can see you're feeling their efforts, which I'm sure you've come to appreciate."

All he had was pain.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Come on, Hikoshu!" The command fell on deaf ears, but Natquik had to shout anyway. So much frustration, so much anger. So much power, and he couldn't do a thing with it. "Just breathe!" Yan-lin thought it was an order for her, and she pressed her mouth against Hikoshu's once more.

He needed that breath to become _chi_. Even the tiniest bit could bring Hikoshu back. But Natquik's water was running low, and he wasn't even sure how he could force _chi _into existence. Limitations, though, had been in ample supply for weeks.

He couldn't just keep bending Hikoshu's heart, that was for sure. There had to be something else. Perhaps he could examine the lungs – go to the very source and search there for what he was missing. But could he bend two separate organs at the same time? He was struggling as it was. And if he dropped the heart beat…

What choice did he have, though?

In desperation, Natquik spat in one hand and stuck it to the right side of Hikoshu's bared rib cage. It was a paltry substitution for water, but he concentrated, and slowly, his control wended its way through Hikoshu's body. The lungs lumbered with every one of Yan-lin's breaths, barely filling at all.

In his lapse of attention, Natquik almost lost control of Hikoshu's heart, and he had to pause his search of the lungs in order to resume the rhythm. As soon as he recovered it, he glanced up at Yan-lin.

"Breathe again." This time, though, when she breathed for him, Natquik explored Hikoshu's lungs, searching the places where air touched blood. Where it became something far more spiritual.

And there, dim but tangible, was a small spark.

Natquik used everything at that point, bending sweat off his forehead as well as the remaining spit in his mouth – whatever he had. Using the poor conductor, he commanded Yan-lin to breathe continuously with only pauses between to let Hikoshu exhale. Though winded, she obeyed, and he found that spark one last time. It was hardly anything – a tiny surge of energy that seemed like little more than a flash of light between two rubbed furs. But Natquik recognized its silvery feel, as well as its inhuman substance.

It was Hikoshu, hidden somewhere between this world and another.

Drawing on as much water in Hikoshu as he could, Natquik tried to bring that spark out. It didn't work at first, always just barely beyond his touch. But Natquik _knew_ he had it. There was some life in him, small though it was, and Natquik had the ability to reach it. Closing his eyes, he put all of his strength into catching that spark.

Somewhere outside of his burdened concentration, he heard wood snapping and Sahani's screams. Natquik didn't notice, though. Finally, with his coaxing, the spark flared to life, and _chi_ surged out under his touch. Immediately, the heart took up its own rhythm, and the lungs shuddered with effort.

With a happy shout that was cut short too quickly, Natquik fell back. For the moment, at least, Hikoshu was alive.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

The pain abated in the bottom of his chest. Hikoshu didn't notice the small relief at first, but eventually, he realized that it was the only part of him not hurting. So he focused on that – focused every bit of his will on that spot, as if he could hide his sanity inside it.

With more focus, that small spot grew larger. Laughing in relief even as he fought back screams, Hikoshu threw everything into his chest, where the agony lessened the more he concentrated. Almost like meditation, he let his mind go blank. Nothing but his chest, where there was warmth and comfort.

"_Hikoshu_!" something shouted, though he wasn't sure if it was in his head or in Koh's lair. It didn't matter; he was not going to be distracted from his meditation. Blocking out the voice, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.

It first radiated out from his lungs, and then it exploded – the pain was washed away in mere seconds, gone as if it had never been there. Sobbing, Hikoshu released his stomach and dropped his head back to the stone floor. Somewhere, still out of sight, that voice was calling his name, but he ignored it. All he could do was revel in the moment, his mind drowning in the sweet respite.

"Congratulations, Avatar. Your friends have saved your life," Koh said in the darkness, having retired to the shadows once more.

"How…how do I get out of here?" Hikoshu gasped, trying to regain control of his emotions. It was over, and that was all that mattered. "How do I go home?"

"That, my dear friend, is something you must figure out on your own." Its voice was growing hollow, as if it were moving further into the cave's depths. "You might start by answering the calls of your past life. Remember our agreement, Avatar."

Hikoshu knew he was alone, even though it was too dark to see. Savoring the moment, he allowed himself to linger on the floor before he got up. The voice was still shouting, somewhere beyond his sight, and he thought that if he should climb out of the tree, he would find the source. Weakly, but with recovering strength, he made his way up the stairs.

When he emerged from the cave, Hikoshu blinked sorely at the amorphous light, feeling as though he'd been lost in the dark for centuries. Even in its muted form, the foggy world seemed more alive, more palpable, after so long in Koh's lair.

Breathing deeply, he turned back toward the craggy tree – and jumped as someone stood there, leaning against the shriveled bark.

"You've been very foolish, Hikoshu," Sidhari said, her dusky face visible between the loose cloth wraps around her head. Her similarly wrapped arms folded under her breasts, she looked both irritated and unhappy – the first time he hadn't seen her smile. "Very foolish indeed."

"I did what I thought I needed to do." Hikoshu fought back a scowl, though she obviously knew everything he was feeling. "I didn't have much guidance, Mistress Sidhari."

"No guidance?" She straightened and strolled toward him, moving awkwardly across the rock. Used to her natural world of sand, she seemed unbalanced by the hard surface. "You're the Avatar, Hikoshu. You can look to yourself for guidance."

"Just like you did?" That made her hesitate, her unusually green eyes flashing in ire. "It seems ridiculous you would lecture me on 'bad choices,' Mistress Sidhari, seeing as I'm suffering for _your_ mistakes."

Her mouth tightened. "I lived my life, and I learned from my mistakes."

"Yeah, well, so did the rest of the world." Hikoshu knew he was being disrespectful, but he just didn't care. After all that had happened – after all he'd been through – how could she stand there and chastise him? "They learned to hate me. They hate everything I represent. So what would you expect? I should choose to die, be reborn into yet another generation that will hate me just as much, and give up on the few people I love?"

"It's the natural order, Hikoshu." Her eyes were strained and her jaw tensed, as if she was also struggling against an outburst. "That is what _we_ are supposed to do."

"Forgive me if, for once, I would just like something different."

Sidhari sighed as she folded her arms again, her hands caressing the white cloth bindings along her biceps. "You don't know what you've done by striking a deal with Koh. You don't even know who Koh is."

"I know that he helped me when I couldn't rely on you."

"Your link to your past lives was destroyed," she said patiently, though he already understood this. "I couldn't communicate with you until now."

"Meaning that my spiritual connection as Avatar has returned," Hikoshu finished, and she pursed her lips as if she believed he'd missed the point.

"But what have you traded for it?"

He stared at her, then rubbed his cheek tiredly. Ridiculous conversation. He was, in essence, arguing with himself about what he'd done, and just like any other internal debate, dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. "Well, right now, I have to get back. How do I do that?"

She shrugged unhelpfully as she bended a seat from the stone, her gaze sweeping over the mist behind him. "I suppose since you brought yourself here, you'll take yourself out."

"But how? I don't even know where I'm at." He considered the tree behind her. Though it still loomed over him in somber warning, it didn't look so foreboding now. He'd faced the worst it had to offer, and now its strangely draped roots scraped out noises of regret. "Will I wake up the moment that I died? Will I come back in the Fire Temple?"

Again, Sidhari shrugged from her perch, her chin propped in her hand. "This is uncharted territory, Hikoshu. I don't know what lies in store for you. But I know one thing." Her green eyes were piercing. "You were gravely injured in the Temple. Had you lived, and had you been whole, you would have certainly entered the Avatar State."

"You think…?" Would he enter it upon returning? Sidhari didn't answer his unfinished question, but her silence said enough. "Wait. How did you bend?"

"Good-bye, Hikoshu."

Then he was moving, even as he stood perfectly still. Sidhari retreated quickly with the tree, both swallowed into the mists, then disappearing into clouds.

In moments, the Spirit World was gone.


	51. Time

**Chapter 50 – Time**

* * *

Despite the deafening roar of splintering wood and Princess Sahani's screams, Yan-lin continued to breathe into Hikoshu's mouth. If Natquik thought that this would help, she would keep doing it. They'd have to drag her away, fighting, before she'd give up on him.

Fortunately, just as she realized they may have run out of time, their efforts were rewarded. Natquik gave a triumphant laugh, and she felt Hikoshu inhale sharply against her lips. Coughing, Yan-lin pulled away in shock and relief, searching his face for some sort of life. His eyes were closed, his skin still white, but his mouth fell open as he fought for breath, and she realized she was laughing, too. They'd brought him back. Dear spirits, Natquik had actually brought him back.

The ecstatic thoughts were interrupted as an arm grabbed hers, dragging her off the floor. Looking up at her captor, Yan-lin found herself confronted with an acolyte not much older than she, his face red and determined as he yanked her away from Hikoshu.

They'd come in from the garden doors, which were now shattered, the rice paper in flames. Sahani, across the room, had also been caught, and the Sage who held her mouth was wrestling her through the doorway to the hall. To her left, she saw Natquik grappling with another man, their hands flying as they exchanged punches and deflected blows.

Natquik managed to throw his elbow into the Sage's nose, the crack of bone audible, and he made a quick dash for the knife he'd tossed across the floor. The man, clutching his bleeding nose, threw a fire blast that would have caught Natquik had he not dodged to the left at the last moment, his shoulder slamming into the wall.

None of them had yet touched Hikoshu, the benders' attention solely on the people still moving in the room. Glancing frantically from Hikoshu's supine form to the arms of the acolyte now holding her, Yan-lin tried to twist her way loose. Tried to stop him from pulling her out of the room and into the hallway. But his grip was tight. In front of her, the other Sage had seized Natquik before he made it to the knife, the two struggling as the firebender tried to scorch his neck.

Finally, Yan-lin got one arm free, and as she drove her elbow into the acolyte's stomach, she slammed her foot down on the inside of his. The acolyte, unprepared for the retaliation, gave a pained cry and relaxed his hold on her just a bit. But it was enough, given her small size, and she twisted free. In a moment, she was loose and scrambling for the knife.

Even as Yan-lin grabbed it, the acolyte grabbed her long braid, hauling her backwards. Gasping in shock at the tearing sensation in her scalp, she lashed behind her with the blade and found nothing but air. The man seized her wrist, twisting hard until she dropped the weapon, and then folded her arm behind her back. Now helpless, she watched as the other Sage pinned Natquik on the wall, his arm pushed into his throat, the waterbender's feet dangling half a foot off the ground.

And then the room shook with a thunderous blast of air as they were all bathed in light.

Not firelight, which she expected, nor any other natural light. It was an unearthly light, bluish-white and brilliant. Remembering that alien flare from somewhere else, Yan-lin looked to Hikoshu and saw that he no longer lay on the floor. Instead, he now floated just above the stones, his torn robes thrashing in a wind that expanded to include them, too. His eyes, no longer closed, glowed as eerily as they did that night in the cave.

His brow was set in anger as those unseeing eyes took in the firebender holding Natquik. Abruptly, flames sprouted around him, encasing him in a fireball that threatened to engulf the room. Standing among the fire, his expression filled with such inhuman rage, Hikoshu looked nothing like himself. He was awesome and terrible – a wrathful spirit that channeled enough power to level nations.

The acolyte, perhaps realizing that this was a lot more than he bargained for, dropped her in terror. But Yan-lin was just as terrified as he; Hikoshu had become something that had no humanity. He was a force of destruction, unaware of what he was destroying.

The Sage who held Natquik tried to raise a defense. Releasing him, the man turned to create a shield of fire – a desperate effort to protect himself – but as soon as he lifted his arms, Hikoshu's attention snapped to him. Fire swamped the room in the wake of Hikoshu's counter-attack, and the man slammed so hard against the wall that Yan-lin wasn't sure he'd survived.

But then she felt someone take her shoulders, and she glanced back to see Natquik, coughing hoarsely. "Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice barely loud enough to make out over the rush of wind. "Get to the garden!" Her captor had apparently had the same idea, as he was nowhere to be seen, and she thought she'd be wise to follow his lead.

There was no time, though. Hikoshu raised his hands, his motions almost deliberate, and gasping, Natquik flung himself on top of her. The weight of his body forced her into the ground just as the air exploded. The room literally shook, as violently as if an earthquake had seized the Temple, and even with Natquik covering her, Yan-lin felt a shower of rock and dust. Choking, she hid her face in her hands and waited for the ground to stop moving.

Then she was being hauled to her feet. Natquik pulled her up, his face and clothes smudged with smoke and dust, his mouth agape as he stared at something past her shoulder. With apprehension, she turned to follow his gaze.

The wall that had held the door was now gone, as well as the wall beyond. Daylight, streaming through the missing stone, added to the brilliance of the fiery sphere that held Hikoshu, as his looming form floated into the hallway.

"Oh, Sahani," Natquik said, his expression falling. He then made to dive after Hikoshu, but Yan-lin held him back.

"Natquik, stop! He'll kill you!"

Trying to shake her off, he practically dragged her to the gaping hole where the door had been. Where the blue-and-red glow of Hikoshu reflected on the remaining stones amidst the screams of alarmed firebenders. He'd floated to the center of the hallway, the wind sheering at his flames to swallow the surrounding corridor in light. From around the edges of the broken walls, on either side, Yan-lin could see red robes scurrying. But there was no sign of Sahani, Miyo, or Kinu.

Finally, Natquik was forced to stop, the heat from Hikoshu blasting them until it was too hot to breathe. He was almost invisible behind the flames, so difficult was it to stare into that light. But Yan-lin thought she could see him turn, raising his hands toward one end of the hall. And from his sphere erupted a wall of fire that surged down the corridor, swallowing everything in its path. Strong enough to suck the air out of her lungs, the heat tore at her skin and seared her vision, such that she didn't realize at first that Hikoshu was moving to do the same thing in the other direction.

"We have to stop him." Natquik had turned back into the chamber, searching for anything to use against Hikoshu. But the only things left were an overturned pitcher and his knife. Yan-lin didn't think he'd use the latter, and as she expected, he immediately grabbed the empty porcelain dish.

"You're going to hurt him!" Yan-lin shouted over the wind as she moved to block his path. He simply pushed her out of the way and aimed for the back of Hikoshu's head. Only by grabbing his arm at the last moment did she stop his attack, and the action nearly toppled them both. "Natquik, don't. You can't hurt him now!"

"Sahani's out there. I have to save her!" He ripped his arm away and raised the pitcher.

"No!"

The flames went out.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Miyo couldn't have held the firebenders off any longer. There were simply too many. For every one that she knocked away with a blast of air, another was behind her, lunging for her back.

Perhaps if she had her staff…no, nothing could have helped, and she had to push the desperation from her mind. There was no time to bemoan the 'if only's. No time to think. Fortunately, she also had no time to see who or what she hit, and her conscience had no time to understand what she was doing. Spinning, ducking, even jumping on and over a few men's heads – whatever it took to keep out of their grasp. It was a losing battle, and she knew it. Miyo didn't care about winning. She just cared about keeping them busy long enough for Natquik.

All she needed was time.

Then there was the explosion. It rattled the walls, distracting her assailants long enough for her to take out two more of their numbers. She didn't look; if it was Natquik's door, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

But her fears were confirmed when, just out of the corner of her eye, Miyo caught sight of blue. Relieved at first that Kinu had survived, she dropped her guard long enough to look to him. Then she noticed that the person was significantly smaller, younger, and also in the custody of a Sage. It was definitely Sahani, and realizing that, Miyo hesitated, her confidence shaken. In her lapse of attention, a Sage cuffed her over the head.

Grimacing as she was forced to her knees, Miyo saw that the man towering above her was the same Sage who'd held her captive the night before. Tzan, who studied her with a sour look, the bandage still wrapped around his arm just below the short sleeve of his tunic, his cheek red where she had bended him into a wall.

"I want all entrances to the quarters blocked." Another Sage somewhere behind her was instructing the others. "Tzan, take Kyo and Hua-nan and check the room. No one—" He cut off as a sound blasted down the hallway. A sound similar to that of an airbender, and immediately, a heavy breeze rushed over them.

Between the legs of Sages and acolytes alike, Miyo could see to the end of the hall. A similarly-sized group of firebenders gathered there, their heads all turned in the same direction as the sound. She searched for blue, but she saw none. Only red and white. A moment later, however, the colors were washed out as a dazzling light streamed from Natquik's room.

No one panicked at first – they didn't understand there was a reason to. The sound of another explosion echoed along the hall, and the twenty or so firebenders grew deathly quiet. Everyone was watching that door in fear of what would happen next. An acolyte escaped, then, from the doorway, stumbling over his own feet as if he were chased by demons. It was the only warning they had of what might be behind him.

Miyo didn't see the hall rip away. The light was so blinding – the heat so unbearable and the wind so powerful that she couldn't see anything at all. Instead, she felt it, the force of the blast strong enough to rip her captor away from her and send them all rolling. With a cry of surprise, she grabbed at the floor to keep herself from moving and clung close to it to fight the wind.

When the onslaught finally died down enough for her to rise, Miyo was stunned. The wall where Natquik's door had been was now gone, as well as the ceiling and the wall directly across from it. Suddenly, the hallway was exposed to the outside, and sunlight filtered onto the rock-strewn floor.

But it wasn't nearly as bright as the figure who emerged into the hall, burning more fiercely than any pyre. His empty gaze trained forward in uncomprehending anger. Hikoshu.

Cries of alarm rose around her as the Sages and acolytes got to their feet. Miyo wasn't of a mind to stand, though, awash with both joy and horror. Hikoshu was alive. Bathed in fire, his eyes nearly as bright as the moon, he didn't look anything like her friend. But he was alive.

He raised his arms in the direction opposite her, and a wall of flame erupted from his hands, scouring the hall as terrified benders disappeared behind it. He then turned to do the same to them, and Miyo could hear the soft footfalls of firebenders escaping through the door behind her, none willing to stay around for whatever fate had befallen the men at the other end of the hall.

"Hikoshu, wait!" Shaking, she pushed herself to her feet and held up her hands, prepared to bend. As expected, he didn't seem to hear her, intent only on the men who were running away. With a face warped in rage, he threw the wave of flames, and she threw up a shield of wind.

The two smashed into each other, the resultant blast hard enough to throw her off her feet. Yet Miyo only flew back a few paces, landing lightly as she kept bending. Heat consumed her as the flames crawled along the ceiling and walls, creeping their way toward her. Crying out in exhaustion, she felt herself weaken. But then Miyo gritted her teeth and took several steps forward. Someone had to stop him. And assuming she was the only one left, then she was also his only chance.

Abruptly, the wave ended, and she fell forward as the force disappeared, her knees hitting the stone. Hikoshu had turned in the other direction, perhaps to find any firebenders who had not yet escaped. There were shouts of terror, increased as the Avatar's attention shifted.

Getting to her feet once more, Miyo threw out her hands to either side and bended herself into a run. Perhaps Hikoshu sensed her lunge, for he spun to face her, creating a crescent of fire that she could hardly believe he was even throwing at her. Easily, she ran up onto the wall, defying gravity with her speed as the blast soared by impotently. Flames from the doors, which had caught on fire in Hikoshu's first attack, licked at her heels, and smoke burned her eyes. But she darted through them, intent to get to Hikoshu, whatever it took.

Miyo was barreling down on him – he couldn't avoid her unless he killed her. His face still contorted, Hikoshu created another wave of fire to swallow her, and she threw up a blast of air to meet it head on. When the two met, there was another explosion, but she propelled herself through it, her arms across her face.

And there he was, clothes ripped, hair loose, and face burning with rage and light as fire danced around him. Something not of this earth – a creature of fury and pain. But some part of him still her dear Hikoshu.

Miyo didn't hesitate this time. Squeezing her eyes closed, she burst through the sphere of flame surrounding him and smashed into him at full speed.

The fire went out.

* * *

**A/N: **Notes on canon, because there's one niggling detail that's always niggled me the wrong way: so from what we know of the Avatar State -- which, IMO, isn't much -- we have no reason to think an Avatar in the Avatar State would threaten or even try to injure someone s/he loves. The handful of times Aang goes crazy, his friends seem relatively safe. Though the safety of others, friendly and not-so-friendly, is often in question.

But, again, the Avatar State itself is kind of vague. Aang goes into it when he's possessed, when he's in danger, when he's really mad, when someone else is in danger _and_ he's really mad. And then we learn he can control it, which is a whole new can of worms...

Anyway, the point I'm getting at is that I'm interpreting the Avatar State in the most basic, most sensible (also IMO) way possible: as a primitive reaction to perceived threat, no matter what that threat is. When an Avatar can control it, s/he can incorporate some logic into that reaction ("I don't think killing the doctor trying to set my broke leg is a good idea"), but when s/he can't, then any perceived threat is reacted to. That includes friends who might be rushing them. In this situation, Hikoshu sees Miyo coming at him and his immediate reaction is to stop her, without recognizing who that "her" is.


	52. The Aftermath

**Chapter 51 – The Aftermath**

* * *

"Miyo!" Natquik let the pitcher drop as he dove out of the room. He'd only seen a flash of orange through the flames, almost lost in the smoke and light, but his mind had leapt to the one person it could be. The only woman crazy enough to throw herself through fire for Hikoshu.

The hall was still burning, smoke from the doors filtering out of the jagged hole where the wall had been. Beyond, a forest rested just outside of the Temple periphery, divided from the compound by a hedge. But Natquik didn't care much for the hole, or the world outside of it. Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he started in the direction that Hikoshu had disappeared.

No one was in the hall, the firebenders having escaped through a narrow stairwell at the far end. Four Sages still lay near it, though they were unmoving. There was no sign of Kinu or Sahani. Closer to him, Natquik spotted Hikoshu and Miyo on the floor beside each other, their bodies limp, as well.

Foregoing his concern over Sahani, he raced toward them, Yan-lin right behind him. He didn't know what had become of his tribespeople, but right then, only getting to Miyo occupied his mind. Sliding to his knees, Natquik fell beside her and grabbed her shoulders.

She was unconscious, and without water, he had no idea how badly hurt. Yan-lin had also reached Hikoshu, whom Natquik noted was in a similar state as Miyo. Stretching across her, he caught Hikoshu's wrist between his fingers. There was a pulse, strong and steady – he was still alive, at least.

"Natquik, what do we do?" Yan-lin was panicked, her hands frantically brushing across Hikoshu's face. He looked human again, neither dead nor other-worldly. Which, despite their circumstances, was an improvement, Natquik thought wryly.

"I can't do anything without water." Gently, he slapped at Miyo's cheeks. Had she hurt her head? Her neck? She didn't seem injured. But she wasn't waking up, and he was powerless to do anything.

"Natquik," a weary voice said, and he looked up. Standing over him was Kinu, worn and dirty, one sleeve half-missing and his robes singed in more than a few places. But other than the sagging wrinkles of exhaustion around his eyes, he appeared to be alright. The same could be said for Sahani, who was tucked under his arm, her black hair in clumps across her face.

As Natquik got to his feet, Kinu proffered a cream-colored pitcher. "I found it in one of the other rooms," he said, his voice cracking as if his throat had been strained. "We took cover there, while…" Pointedly, Kinu trailed off, his mouth forming a grim frown as his eyes fixed on Hikoshu.

Natquik nodded absently and took the pitcher, returning to his place by Miyo. He needed to check on Kinu and Sahani, as well, but the two people on the floor were far more urgent. "Can you watch for firebenders?"

It was an unnecessary request – Kinu was already prepared for any attack, even when he expected none, and so Natquik didn't hear his response. Bending water out of the pitcher, he splashed Miyo's face as he pressed a hand to her neck.

The response was immediate. Spluttering from the cold, she awoke with a start and nearly hit him in the process. Natquik jerked back to avoid the collision, while Miyo twisted about, water trickling from her chin.

"Where's Hikoshu?" she asked as she looked around the hall, too dazed to really see anything. A moment later, she saw him lying a foot or two away, and quickly, Miyo crawled toward him, practically pushing past Yan-lin to gather his head into her arms. The rough treatment managed to jar him awake, his eyes, now their normal copper color, blinking open in confusion.

"Miyo," he murmured with a faint smile, reaching up to touch her cheek, and her shoulders shook as if she were crying. "You look terrible."

"Stop talking," she said through her tears, her voice thick. Natquik watched them for a little longer, then pushed himself up. Though he wanted to join in their sad reunion, this was their moment – they deserved some privacy.

As soon as he stood, Sahani yanked away from Kinu's protective arms and flung herself into Natquik's. Giving a soft grunt of surprise, he held her against his chest and let her squeeze her fear and grief into him, as she murmured his name into the wool of his robes. She'd been through so much – even more than he knew about – and Natquik wished he could take some of it away.

Finally, he looked past her head to Kinu, who'd regarded them somberly, possibly with the same thoughts as Natquik. Catching his gaze, the old Shaman nodded in quiet understanding.

"We'll both be alright," he said, holding his shoulder as he winced. "As soon as we're home, we'll be alright." Natquik didn't doubt that, but the red welt across Sahani's neck where she'd been grabbed still made him worry. This wasn't something a sixteen-year-old girl could easily overcome.

The thought of that made him think of someone else, and slowly, he turned back to Hikoshu and Miyo. Much like Natquik, Yan-lin had retreated to give the two some room; now, she stood a few paces away, watching them with some sadness.

"Yan-lin," Natquik said, and her attention snapped to him, shaking her from her thoughts. "We have to hurry. As soon as they figure out Hikoshu's done or as soon as they have enough men, they're going to be back. Can you get us to Miyo's bison?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and her jaw moved without sound at first. "You want me to show you the way?"

"I want you to come with us." Gently, Natquik extricated himself from Sahani's embrace and urged her back to Kinu, though his gaze remained on Yan-lin.

"But—" she began, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "—what I did—"

"—is something we can deal with later. But we're not going to leave you here to the Fire Nation." She hesitated, obviously eager to accept the offer but obviously afraid of what Natquik had in store. Only people who betrayed saw betrayal in others, Natquik noted ruefully.

Finally, Yan-lin shook her head. "I don't deserve it. I'll stay here and face my punishment."

He could force her to come with them, if he really wanted. But she was allowed to choose her own fate, and she was right – she did deserve everything she got. Nodding, Natquik looked back to Miyo and Hikoshu. The latter had managed to sit up despite Miyo's attentions, but she still pulled at his robes and pushed at his hair, asking him a million questions that he hardly was able to answer.

"Miyo, Hikoshu, we have to go," he interrupted.

Releasing Hikoshu's shoulders, Miyo seemed surprised, as if honestly shocked that they still weren't free from danger. Though, Natquik noted, this was probably the safest they'd been in a while. All thanks to Hikoshu.

"You've got to walk," Natquik said, offering a hand to the beaten Avatar. He took it with a grimace, his skin still incredibly pale, and as Natquik hauled him up, there was almost no strength in his grip. "Yan-lin, can you at least take us to the stables?" When she didn't answer, he glanced over his shoulder. Only to find that she had vanished.

In the meantime, Hikoshu leaned his weight onto Miyo, who continued to pull on his tattered robes in an attempt to cover the red cut on his chest. "Thank you." He bowed his head to Natquik, either out of gratitude or out of fatigue. "For bringing me back."

Natquik shrugged uncomfortably. "You should thank Yan-lin. If she ever comes back, that is."

"She went to the stairwell," Kinu said, and nodded past his shoulder toward the empty hallway. "She may be stalling the firebenders for more time."

"Yan-lin was the one who stabbed me," Hikoshu muttered darkly under his breath, his sunken eyes unfocused and empty. "That was the betrayal the qu-dan spoke of."

Natquik said nothing to that, though in his mind, he was defending her. She'd worked just as hard as he to save Hikoshu's life, and even though she was the reason all this had happened, in the end, she'd become the solution. It was through her that Hikoshu had been reunited with them, and it was through her that Hikoshu's bending had been returned.

No, none of that excused her actions. But she had made it right and she had accepted responsibility. Natquik could respect that, and he could forgive her for it. However, he couldn't blame Hikoshu for not doing the same, and so he made no comment on it. Instead, he asked, "Do either of you know the way to the stables?"

"Yeah, I…" Hikoshu hesitated, his eyes shutting as he clasped his nose. With a sudden rush of panic, Miyo wrapped an arm around his chest and peered into his face. After a moment, though, he shook his head and tried to concentrate on Natquik. "I used to play a lot of pranks in the stables. I can probably get there from…here…." He still seemed disoriented, as his gaze swept across the hall with some horror. "What happened?"

"If we get out into the forest, we can avoid the Sages," Miyo said, gesturing awkwardly toward the hole in the wall. "Then maybe if Hikoshu can get his bearings…" She flashed him a miserable look.

"Here," and Natquik took Hikoshu from her, pulling his arm around his shoulders. "We have to move fast. Miyo, lead in front. Kinu—?"

"I'll hold the back," he said immediately, bending the remaining water from the pitcher as he pushed Sahani away from him. "Let's please just go home."

That was one request Natquik more than happily agreed with. Holding almost all of Hikoshu's weight, he groaned with his own exhaustion, and crawled after Miyo out of the hole.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

"Damage done to the quarters?" Himizu asked, his hands behind his back as he paced. Sotsu, standing just inside of the door, kept his head bowed.

"The hall itself is destroyed and will require reconstruction. Every door will need to be replaced, Your Eminence."

"And the acolytes?

"We couldn't keep them from their daily tasks. The majority of them have gone back to serving their respective masters, but quite a few have been hurt seriously enough to merit a visit to the infirmary."

"Totals on dead and injured?"

"None dead, twenty injured. Some very badly."

A disaster. He had a veritable disaster on his hands. Not only had Himizu failed in his attempts to bring Hikoshu under control, but firebenders were hurt, portions of the Temple were ruined or destroyed, and now everyone knew that the Avatar was there. Such a mess that anything he tried at this point to get Hikoshu back would only bring more attention on what had happened in the last day. So Himizu had ordered the Sages away from the acolytes' quarters and had moved the noon rituals to the North Hall, with only a nominal effort to find the Avatar and his group.

Perhaps by letting the Water Tribesmen go, Himizu was guaranteeing a dismal future for the Fire Nation. But what else could he do? Any other attempts on the Avatar might result in more hurt, and Himizu couldn't further risk the lives of his Sages. As always, he held true to his oath. The Temple before all others.

"You'll have to make some sort of announcement," Nizan said from the window, the lattice thrown back so that he could admire the plum tree outside. Himizu hardly paused in his pacing to glare at the young Fire Lord.

"I'll make an announcement that the Avatar has been an informal guest. I'll then just say the matter is being investigated. They'll let the rumors finish off the rest of the story." He hoped. It was quite possible all of this would explode in his face. But he couldn't let everyone know the truth of the matter, as he couldn't let the truth get beyond the Temple walls.

There had to be something positive to come of this.

"They'll have questions," Nizan continued, trying his patience. "They'll want more than just that."

Himizu stopped pacing. "They'll have what I give them. And if they want any more, I'll leave that up to you." That got Nizan's attention, as he turned back into the chamber in surprise. "After all, they'll know of the damage to the Palace, soon enough." He pinned Nizan with a quick frown before returning to his anxious walk. "I'd find someone to blame, my Liege."

Sotsu cleared his throat, bringing Himizu back to him. "Your Eminence?"

"Check on the men in the infirmary. Contact the Second and Third Sage and organize the repairs in the quarters with the curator. I want it done immediately."

"What about Fire Sage Kazuo?"

Kazuo. Himizu was almost overwhelmed in the trouble the acolyte had caused him. Essentially, this all came down to his betrayal – this whole day could be laid at his feet. When he was captured, Kazuo had fought the Sages until they finally subdued him. After that point, though, he'd been as docile as a koala-lamb. Completely cooperative, as if he'd never turned his bending on his fellow Sages.

Himizu found himself at a loss on the acolyte. He couldn't punish the man for being loyal to his former master. Nor could he suffer to have Kazuo stay in the Temple. But he had to do _something_. "I'll handle him later. Keep him confined to quarters until then."

"And the Omashu woman?"

Yan-lin was a much simpler matter. She'd turned herself over to the Sages shortly after the battle. Stunned, they'd hardly known what to do with her, and so they just put her in a room until Himizu could deal with it. She might've had as much a part in this disaster as Kazuo, but there was only one thing he could do to her.

"She's a daughter of Gi-Luon and an honored guest. Return her to the Fire Palace, but make sure she'll be leaving on a boat as soon as possible."

Nizan made a noise in his throat, as if offended that Himizu was ordering anyone to the Fire Palace. But Himizu was too tired to argue imaginary leadership roles. Absently, he waved Sotsu out, and the Sage bowed deeply before retiring from the room.

"You shouldn't have let the Avatar go," Nizan said, leaning back against the window sill. Himizu scowled again.

"There'll be other opportunities. If you want to be a true leader, my Liege, you must learn to pick your battles and call your fights. Pushing too hard and too long will wear you out before it wears out your enemies."

It was good advice; the situation had changed to one that Himizu could no longer control, and he knew he would certainly fail without that. But Himizu had waited many years to get to this point. And even though he'd failed today, if he had a little more patience, there _would _be other opportunities.

He just needed to wait for them.

Nizan, though, didn't seem to appreciate the advice, his eyebrows lifting coolly. Reminding Himizu that there were, in fact, other issues to confront. The Avatar might be a threat, but there was no threat more immediate or serious than an untrustworthy ruler.

Rubbing at his eye with his thumb, Himizu stopped pacing in order to stare at the scroll which held the names of the Fire Lords, all the way back to the Divergence. There, near the bottom, in freshly plied ink, was Nizan's name.

Today, he'd sleep. Tomorrow, he'd handled the Temple. And at some point, after all of this had passed, Himizu would have to deal with Nizan.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

**_One Week Later_**

Yan-lin climbed onto the dock unsteadily, her legs unaccustomed to land after eight days at sea. Around her, the wharf was alive with people, some coming off the boat just like her, others carrying heavy boxes and barrels onto other ships; everyone was in motion, with fish or spices or other goods that needed to get somewhere else fast. A bustling economy, thriving on the salty air and fueled by the needs of unseen traders.

Smiling at the feel of stable ground under her, she made her way further from the ocean, an eye out for sailors with arms too full to watch for her. She also searched for someone else – someone who promised he'd actually be there, for once.

Surprisingly, he was, his presence nearly dominating the fisherwives who helped to gut and clean the day's catch. His bronze scale armor had been replaced with muted brown robes – his traveling robes – and his hair was held back in a simple queue, rather than its standard topknot. Though he looked a little thinner than she remembered, perhaps even a little more aged, Gi-Luon still held himself like a king. He strolled through their stalls, unperturbed by the horrid midday smell, and scanned the wood dock for her.

Adjusting the poorly fitting Earth Kingdom robes the shipmen had given her, Yan-lin moved through the crowd to meet him.

"Yan-lin," he said as he stopped at the edge of the dock, his brown eyes hard and humorless. "I'm glad to see you safe."

"Thank you, Father." She dipped her head politely. "It's fortunate that I left before you sent someone to rescue me." The sarcastic statement made him frown, and he walked away from the wharf, forcing her to follow.

"I was told that you were a guest to the Fire Nation. And I didn't want to risk diplomatic relations over a misunderstanding." Of course, he didn't. Diplomatic relations were tentative and could be irreparably damaged. On the other hand, he could always have more daughters.

"I _was_ a guest." She agreed more for the sake of peace with her father, uninterested in trying his temper. As they walked past the stalls, neither looked at the other, their eyes straight forward. A cold breeze had descended on the port town of Luogyan, and she shivered. They were closer to winter now than they were to summer.

"Do you have news of Hikoshu?" Gi-Luon used the Avatar's name to disguise his identity; few people knew it outside of the Fire Nation.

"He's returned to the North Pole with the Water Tribe Princess." It was a guess. She honestly didn't know what had happened to him the moment she left that hall. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered. "He is still able to bend."

"Of course." Her father's voice was dry as he waved off a woman's attempt to force an eel on him. "I'm surprised, given how much you helped the Sages to take that ability away." Yan-lin winced. So he'd learned about the betrayal.

"I told them a theory. We were lucky, I suppose, that my theory was wrong."

"Don't crush pebbles, Yan-lin." He was still eerily calm, but she knew it was because of their visibility. He would never berate his daughter in public. "You gave them information you were supposed to give me. It's not a matter of how 'wrong' it was."

She had no response to that. He was right, and she was properly humbled. Yan-lin had betrayed everyone now. There wasn't a person left in the world who would be close her, and perhaps that was how it was supposed to be. Yan-lin, though, didn't regret her choices in the end. In fact, the only thing she regretted was the pain she'd caused the people she had traveled with for weeks.

That was what humbled her – not the lies to her father. Just the lies to those who had made the mistake of trusting her.

"We'll discuss what to do with you in Omashu," Gi-Luon said stiffly, and she cringed again. Yan-lin's guilt was a considerable punishment, but Gi-Luon's punishments were infamously fierce.

And he never treated her with any special favor.


	53. Winter

**Chapter 52 – Winter**

* * *

The ice hut was painfully silent. It was a silence that had stretched on for far too long, right into intentional discomfort. Which were the kind of silences Chian liked best; rather than berating someone, she let that person _feel_ her place. And Miyo was certainly feeling it.

They'd been in this small ice hut, on the eastern edge of the Northern City, for nearly an hour. She and Hikoshu with Chian, who remained tight-lipped while they recounted every detail from their journey. Everything that had gone right, gone wrong, or didn't go at all. But the more they talked, the surlier Chian became, until all she wore was a glower.

Now they had run out of things to say, and Miyo kept her eyes respectfully to the floor, studying the gray and white furs strewn across the ice. Occasionally, she fiddled with the woolen blue sleeves of the robes they'd given her in place of her ragged habit, or watched the glint of a flame wavering in its stone lamp. Whatever to avoid staring at Chian. Seated beside her against the wall of the ice hut, Hikoshu also looked contrite. Probably the first time he'd ever had such a look for the old airbender. Chian, however, did not appear to notice.

She sat cross-legged opposite them, atop a woven mat of dried kelp, her back to the fur-covered door. She seemed pretty healthy, given her two months of captivity. Her yellow robes shone more brilliantly than Miyo's had in over a month, and her gray hair was swept up in a partial braid away from her face. Eyes shut, she apparently concentrated hard on controlling her temper; only Chian would need to meditate to avoid being mad.

"And that's what happened?" she said thinly after the long, awkward pause. Hikoshu, elected to speak for them both, gave a nod and pulled his blankets higher into his lap. Though it'd been two or three weeks since the night at the Fire Temple, he still seemed physically weaker. He slept more now than he did before, and the most basic of activities fatigued him quickly. Worried, Miyo had asked Natquik if that would eventually improve; he couldn't say either way.

Chian finally shook her head, and Miyo for a moment thought the private battle within her not to yell at them had been lost. But taking a deep breath, she instead centered a severe glare on Hikoshu.

"Foolish. Utterly foolish. But you're alive." Then, with a frown to Miyo, she added, "I trust you took better care of my bison than you did of your glider."

Miyo felt her cheeks grow hot. That was going to be a point of consternation for a while. After all, no self-respecting Air Nun would lose her staff in such a way. "Of course, Elder Chian. Rosma is perfectly fine."

Chian knew it. She'd checked on the bison long before she checked on either of them. World-weary and exhausted, Rosma was glad to be reunited with his lifelong companion, just as Chian was glad to be back with him. Still, part of Miyo hoped he'd miss her as much as she'd miss him. They had grown close through the ordeal, relying on each other more than a few times.

"I suppose at least one of you came out of this perfectly fine," she said with a grunt. "How about you, Hikoshu? How are you doing now?"

The question caught him offguard, and he threw a hesitant glance at Miyo before answering. "I'm doing alright. Just ready to get back to the Air Temple."

He looked better than he had. Now wrapped in a heavy blue coat, he was clean-shaven and alert, his eyes no longer as sunken or as empty as they had been in the Fire Temple. He still had his hair partly pulled up in its usual topknot – a fashion he wasn't willing to give up, no matter what they went through in the Fire Nation.

Miyo wondered if he'd still look that healthy when he realized that he wasn't going back to the Western Air Temple. And that she wasn't staying. It certainly kept her up some nights, the thought that she'd soon be separated from him after so much had happened. But it was time for her to let him go, and she knew that.

"And Miyo? How about you?" When Chian turned to look at her, Miyo felt even more surprised than Hikoshu probably had. Of course, the Elder would ask about Hikoshu, given the circumstances. Miyo, however, didn't merit the same kind of concern from anyone but Hikoshu and Natquik.

"Just fine," she said with an uncomfortable frown. It wasn't as if she'd been tortured, killed, and then brought back to life, so she didn't have much to complain about. "I'm fine."

"Then would you mind stepping out as I speak to Hikoshu alone?" Her gruff manner returned, Chian didn't even wait for Miyo's answer as her admonishing frown found Hikoshu again. Feeling dismissed, she threw one last, anxious glance to her friend, airbended herself to a stand, and slipped out of the ice hut.

As she let the furs fall back behind her, Miyo pulled her blue robe tight against the icy wind, her skin chilling almost immediately. The Water Tribe clothes were a good replacement, given the shape of her yellow nun's robes, but it also meant she had a harder time keeping warm. Her old habit was made specifically to block cold breezes that her airbending couldn't. The Water Tribe robes, though designed for a frozen climate, could hardly compare.

The ice city was full of people right then, but none milled in that particular area, so far on the edge of the capital. In addition to the return of their princess, the hunters had returned from the summer hunt, as well. So everyone rushed about, planning for the great feast that night to honor them. And in their wake, Miyo, Hikoshu, and Chian remained relatively forgotten.

It at least gave Miyo some time to reflect by herself. Five people on a bison had provided little privacy, and she realized now how much she really missed the peace of the Air Temple, where she could meditate and focus. There were a lot of things that she'd realized, that it took two months to make her realize.

Miyo still wanted to stay with Hikoshu, but she wouldn't be able to. She saw now that he had a far different path from her – a path leading somewhere that she didn't want to follow. It was heartbreaking to think that, just maybe, Hikoshu had a life ahead of him that didn't necessarily include her. But more importantly, she had a life ahead of her, and she felt strong enough now to figure out what that was.

So with a pensive smile, Miyo walked along the canal, the softly lapping water lulling her into an inner peace that she hadn't felt in a while. It was alright; the world was alright. Nothing but ice, clouds, and a blazing sun in the middle of a light blue sky.

"Would you like some company?"

Miyo didn't even need to turn to recognize Natquik, so familiar was his voice. Stopping, she allowed him to catch up, immediately noting that his expression was troubled. Like Hikoshu, he was cleaner, more resembling the man they'd met the day they set off from the North Pole. His hair was held back from his face with a leather tie, and his dark skin made his somber blue eyes glow.

The only thing different about him was his coat, which didn't bear the white stripes reaching from his shoulder to his waist. Instead, the parka was a plain, unadorned blue, only the trim of the wrists made of white fur, peeking from his pockets where he'd hidden his hands.

"You're not wearing an apprentice coat anymore," she remarked on the obvious, and he shrugged as they started to walk again.

"Not until the tribunal, at least."

Her content mood gone, Miyo studied him sadly out of the corner of her eyes, his face no longer bearing a bruise as a mark but certainly something more internal. Some hadn't escaped the Fire Temple as unscathed as others. "When will they hold it?"

"Whenever the Chief returns. They've also called in the head of my clan, so that might take a little longer."

"Is there anyone to speak in your defense?" She knew she couldn't, as tribunals were open only to members of the tribe.

"Sahani, perhaps, or maybe they'll make an exception for the Avatar." Natquik shrugged again, ill at ease with the subject. "It'll be fine. What's the worst that they'll do? Forbid me from marrying Sahani?" Throwing her a wry grin, he cast off his morose expression in order to lighten the mood.

Actually, the worst they could do was execute him, so she found little funny about the situation. But it was apparent he didn't want her to worry about it, and Miyo didn't want to worry him.

"I suppose if they ostracize you, you can always come live in the Air Temple with me."

"While the thought of living with a bunch of young women is tempting, the thought of living with a bunch of _celibate_ young women is a tragedy." He stopped as they reached an intersection in the canal, an ice bridge over the waterway in front of them. Turning to her, Natquik arched an eyebrow as he took in her outfit. "The Water Tribe blue looks good on you. Really brings out your arrow."

She smiled at the bizarre compliment. "Why, I'm surprised you even noticed the arrow, considering how many other things about me you could be staring at." That caught him completely off-guard, and her smile turned smug as she climbed the bridge.

Natquik quickly collected himself, following. "So you're going back to the Western Air Temple?"

"Hikoshu's got a lot to learn, and so do I." Again, she stopped, leaning on the ice railing to study the reflection of the sky in the dark water below. It shimmered, warping her silhouette until she could hardly see her face. How much it had changed in the past few months, but in ways that were invisible even to her. "A while back, you said I hadn't found my place in the world, and you were right. But I've come to realize that I am an Air Nun. I just never understood what that really was." She turned around to face him, folding her hands across the cloth belt at her waist. "So I'm going home to become that. To find my place in the world."

Though she hadn't expected him to look overjoyed, she didn't expect to see him despondent either. The expression was gone in an instant, replaced with another grin. "How's Hikoshu taking that?"

"Well…I haven't told him yet." Miyo frowned thoughtfully, tugging at a lock of hair that'd fallen loose from the tie holding it back. In response, Natquik laughed a humorless laugh and leaned against the railing beside her.

"Were you planning to tell him before you got on the bison, or were you going to send him a letter?"

"He's my best friend!" She grew indignant at his mocking tone. "He'll understand."

"Because losing someone you care about is always so easy to understand," he said mirthfully, though he didn't seem to be enjoying the joke. She eyed him for the underlying ridicule, but found something else that made her feel warm instead.

"What about Sahani?" Quickly changing the subject, she fought back the heat in her cheeks. "How is she doing, after all of…?"

"Fine, as far as I can tell." He'd turned solemn again as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Or as fine as anyone can be who's gone through something like that."

"She's tough."

"Yeah." He didn't seem encouraged. "She's doing better now that she's home." Miyo was glad to hear it; Sahani had been quiet and withdrawn the entire way to the North Pole, almost to the point that Miyo wasn't sure she'd heard more than a handful of words from the princess. Natquik and Kinu had devoted most of their attention to her, reassuring her, lifting her spirits. Trying to make her smile. It'd been a wretched two weeks, made bearable only by Hikoshu and by the fact she still had Hikoshu. All other miseries paled in comparison to that one, simple joy.

"And you?" Miyo finally asked, again changing the subject. "Do you feel better now?"

She wasn't sure he heard her question at first, his eyes on some invisible point at the end of the canal, his expression doleful. But then he looked at her with a lopsided smile, his attempt to flirt ruined by a lingering sadness.

"I'm always better when I'm around a beautiful woman."

"I mean about coming back to the North Pole." Miyo ignored the quip as she rubbed at her hands, numb from touching the ice too long. "You didn't really want to do that, if I remember correctly."

"Well, we all have our roles to play," he said vaguely, and she feared for a moment he would slip back into his distant stare. But instead, he turned to face her, pushing away from the railing. "Listen, Miyo, I know you're planning to leave, off to become a nun—"

"I'm already a nun," she interrupted dryly, though he remained serious, almost earnest as he stepped closer to her.

"A better nun, then. And if the spirits are with me, by next winter, I'll be married. But until then – until you've rededicated your life to some higher spirituality, and until I've committed myself to Sahani…" he trailed off mysteriously, his eyes landing on a spot on the ice just beside her hand. Then he met her gaze again, and she was once more flushed with heat despite the strength-sapping cold of the wind. He'd moved awfully close in the last few moments, near enough that she could see the subtle shades of blue in his eyes. "Until then, there's now."

"There's now? Why, Natquik, how profound of y—"

She cut off as he kissed her, his arms pulling her away from the balustrade as they circled her waist. Some part of her rebelled – that part that had been rebelling against this inevitability since first meeting him – but it died almost as soon as he touched her, every bit of moral resistance melting in the embrace.

It felt right, and she slipped her arms around his neck, her cold fingers wending through his hair to pull him closer. So instinctive, his lips against hers, and his smell that had become almost second-nature. The past two months faded, as well as the certainty of the future. There was only now.

Then Natquik was pulling away from her, and she clung to him as the moment ended, her hands falling to his shoulders. Her breath catching, Miyo found his eyes, which were filled with just as much longing as hers, but also a certain hint of finality.

"Because you're right, I _did _beat you," he said with a sad smile, releasing her. Stunned, she pressed a hand to the railing to steady herself and tried with difficulty to clear her head. Too many emotions, though, with not enough time to sort them.

"I have to go," he said, and they both knew he meant more than his immediate tasks. It was over, just as soon as it began – a moment stolen from time. Now they would have to go their separate ways, their paths never to cross like this again.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "I know."

Miyo stood there, torn and confused over what exactly she wanted, as Natquik walked away. It seemed wrong to let him go just like that; there had to be something else she needed to do, before this became their good-bye.

"Natquik!" she said, and he turned curiously from the other end of the bridge. "Are you going to be alright? With the tribunal?"

He considered her for a moment, obviously noting her genuine concern, and then grinned. "Are you going to come visit Hikoshu?"

"I—well," she hadn't really thought about it, "I suppose, I probably will."

"Then I'll be fine. Can't miss out on seeing your lovely, nunnish face again." And he was walking away once more, raising his hand in farewell. Shivering, Miyo watched him leave as she pulled her robes closer to her chin.

The day had become unbearably cold.

**xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx**

Now alone in the small ice hut with Chian, Hikoshu shifted uneasily as the furs fell behind Miyo, nothing to keep him warm but the heavy blankets that he huddled under. He sincerely did not miss the cold.

"So is this the point where you lecture me?" Even after two weeks, Hikoshu was still tired – too tired to take on the airbender. "Tell me everything I've done wrong since the day I left here, and what _you_ would've done instead?"

Chian answered with hard silence, making him grow increasingly uncomfortable under that severe gaze.

"Yes, I admit it. I shouldn't have let Miyo come with me," he finally said, straightening from the wall as he turned confrontational. "And I shouldn't have trusted the Earth Kingdom girl, and I shouldn't have let myself be captured, and I shouldn't have lost my bending, and a million other things I shouldn't have done. Is that what you want to hear?"

Again, silence, and he felt frustration building in his chest.

"You know, Chian, maybe I'm not the best Avatar. Maybe I'm not the smartest, the most selfless, the most forgiving, or the most even-headed. Maybe I'm doomed to make all the same horrible mistakes that the previous Avatar made." He had to struggle to keep his voice down, and he buried a fist into his other hand to staunch his anger. "I might even be a failure by your standards! But that doesn't change the fact that I'm still the Avatar. It's not some role I'm filling just because the spirits thought it'd be a rich joke – it's _me_. I'm going to make mistakes, and hopefully, I'll learn from them. Then maybe someday, I'll be the kind of Avatar you obviously don't think I am. But right now, whether or not you choose to accept it, I _am_ the Avatar, and I won't try to justify that to either of us."

The tirade drained him of strength, and he leaned against the ice wall once more, dismissing it as hopeless. Yet much to his surprise, Chian nodded despite her glare.

"You _are_ the Avatar, Hikoshu. I'm glad you've come to understand that, rather than fighting it like some obstinate boy." Sighing, she stretched her back, as if the diatribe had taken more out of her than it did him. "And you will fail, and you will make bad decisions. But it doesn't mean you were wrongly selected for the duties assigned to you. This is what you are meant to do – if the spirits had not wished for you to make mistakes, then you wouldn't have been made one of us."

He was taken aback. Was she actually agreeing with him? And not lecturing him for being a complete waste of potential? But he'd done the opposite of almost everything she'd asked. Surely, she couldn't believe that the entire thing hadn't been a disaster.

"Of course, it doesn't excuse your foolish decisions," she said sternly, possibly reading his mind. "You are a fool, Hikoshu. But you seem to understand what you've done wrong and are willing to accept responsibility for it even as you learn from it. And that is the first step to becoming the Avatar, as well as a man."

He didn't respond, feeling equally complimented and chastised. Though it wasn't quite acceptance, it was the closest thing to approval he'd ever had from Chian. The novel feeling was actually kind of good.

Smoothing her robes with withered hands, Chian sighed again. "You're still weak." It wasn't a question. "But you can still bend." In answer, Hikoshu bended a small flame over his fingers, relishing in heat of the flame, as well as the sensation of the _chi_ moving as he commanded. It was tinged with something else, though – like a memory of the inherent wrongness, corrupting the nature of his skill. Hikoshu didn't know if there was something still wrong or if it was simply all in his head.

Chian nodded in approval. "So your _chi_ was corrected when you were brought back to life."

"I suppose so. I guess I just needed to be reset." And it was Yan-lin who knew that. Hikoshu wasn't sure if he could ever forgive any of her betrayals, but possibly – just possibly – he could forgive her for doing what she thought she needed to do to save him. She might have been terribly wrong, and he would not be sitting there with Chian. But would he have wanted to keep living like that, anyhow? Useless and unhappy, as the world was even unhappier around him? So perhaps Yan-lin had been the most merciful of anyone that evening.

"Can they do it to you again?" Chian asked. In other words, would he have to fight everyone, now that they knew how to rob him of his bending? He gave a weak shrug.

"I think Natquik was the only reason they could do it at all. And as far as anyone is aware, I never lost my bending as a result." They all saw him enter the Avatar State, he thought with a shudder. There was no arguing something like that. "I don't think anyone will want to give it a second try."

Chian seemed satisfied. "Of course, speak of it to no one. They don't need to know that Avatar can be incapacitated." Hikoshu agreed; there were already a lot of things he was never going to tell anyone. Like what he'd seen in the Spirit World, which remained more vivid than any dream. And the black, slithering form of a spirit named Koh, with whom he'd made a deal that he didn't even understand the terms for. But that wasn't now, and he shoved it to the back of his mind.

"What will happen with the Fire Nation?" he asked instead, brushing at the furs across his knees. Perhaps the Great Sage deserved justice for what he'd done, but punishing him might mean punishing a lot of other people, too, like Princess Tala or Kazuo. Hikoshu didn't want that. Perhaps that was the mistake that Sidhari made – not realizing that it was better to let the guilty go free than to risk hurting the innocent. Or maybe she just didn't care.

"I don't know." Chian seemed rather apathetic, too, as if she'd agree with any decision to discipline the country as a whole. "I imagine the Water Tribes will want to retaliate, but if you would rather they not, then you will stop it." Now her expression turned hard. "Again, you're the Avatar, Hikoshu. If you tell them not to do something, they won't do it. For all of your flaws, you are still looked upon as a mediator. Make sure you remember that."

He _didn't_ remember that. All of these years, Hikoshu had followed the advice or orders of others, always thinking that someone else knew better than he. This was the first time he'd really ever been told he had power over entire nations. The notion was a bit terrifying and more than a little intimidating, so he let the subject go. Best to deal with it when the issue arose.

"You know you are staying here. You're not coming with us," Chian said abruptly, and he nodded. "You told Miyo you intended to go back to the Western Air Temple."

"I thought it'd be easier on her. She's been through a lot, and…" The idea of losing her, even for a short period of time, hurt him. She'd been a constant presence in his life for three years, as well as the agonizing two months that _felt_ like three years. She was the closest thing he had to a family, and now certainly the only person who represented home to him.

How could he possibly make it without her?

"She'll know eventually, if she doesn't already." Chian's tone was admonishing. "What's the point in lying to her?" Because it made it easier to lie to himself, though he chose not to say that out loud.

"I just don't want to deal with it right now," he said instead, tiredly pulling the blankets higher in his lap.

"You _should_ have learned from the Air Nomads that love is an attachment." Chian's words so closely echoed Koh's that it sent a shiver down Hikoshu's spine. But Chian didn't seem to notice. Groaning loudly, she pushed herself to her feet, her limbs moving with starts. "You must not be emotionally invested in people, Hikoshu. It always ends badly."

"I'm giving her up, aren't I?" He didn't hide his bitterness, and she gave him a reproachful frown for his tone as she turned for the door. "But why am I surprised you're getting onto me for missing my best friend? I'm sure the attachment of love has doubtfully ever been a problem for you."

"Don't presume so much about my life," she said tersely, hesitating by the furs. "It'll do you good to be alone for a while. It'll teach you to appreciate what being alone means." And then she was gone, leaving him to his gloomy thoughts.

That gloom didn't fade as the day wore on, and it certainly didn't help that he was by himself. Eventually Miyo returned, almost joyful as she rattled off about the festivities she had seen them preparing around the kashiq. Apparently it was a very large affair, though he couldn't picture it in his mind well enough to have the same amount of awe as she. She also seemed very disappointed that they wouldn't be attending.

But no one wanted him there for the event, and Miyo wasn't going to go without him. So they stayed pent up well past the time the celebration would have begun. Instead of dwelling on their ostracism, they just chatted. True, they'd had many opportunities to talk freely and without worry since leaving the Fire Nation, but this time was different. It was as if they both knew that this opportunity might be one of the last.

They talked about everything that wasn't serious. How cold it was at the Air Temple by now, how hard it was to have a decent bath at the North Pole. How Natquik was probably making a fool of himself in front of the women already.

"And he kissed me," Miyo said off-handedly at one point, making Hikoshu gape. His reaction must've delighted her, as she grinned. "So I'd say he's already back to his flirting."

"Well, I think we all knew it was going to happen eventually," Hikoshu said as he settled back into his fur bed on the floor, folding his arms behind his head. "He wasn't a better kisser than me, was he?" That made her laugh.

"Oh, Hikoshu, I'm going to miss you." And suddenly, the happy mood disappeared, leaving in its wake an uncomfortable sadness.

"I'm not going back to the Air Temple," he finally broke the silence, his eyes on the ice ceiling. She already knew it, and somberly, Miyo climbed into the furs beside him to rest her head on his elbow.

"Are you going to be okay?" she murmured. He turned to face her in surprise. Mere inches from him, her eyes were a dull gray, strained and weary, making Hikoshu wonder if they'd been that way all night.

"What, you're worrying about me?" He grinned in an attempt to brighten her mood. "How about you? You'll never survive the Air Temple without me."

She seemed to agree, tightly hugging him as she buried her head into the crook of his arm. Shifting, he pulled his other arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"I'm going to visit. A lot," she said after a moment. "It won't be like I left at all."

With a sigh, he kissed the top of her head. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Miyo. I would've never made it through this trip without you."

"Stop talking," she said thickly, and they fell into a peaceful, if sad, silence.

The morning for her to leave came too quickly, his time with Miyo far too short. Hikoshu didn't even have the chance to feel a sense of normalcy return; it was as if everything had changed and the spirits were determined that he should know it.

So they gathered at the bison point where Rosma stood, possibly where Rosma had stood the morning that they'd left two months before. Except where there had been fanfare mixed with grim determination back then, there was now only a quiet, lonely send-off. Just him, Miyo, and Chian.

As it was when they had arrived.

Chian had no parting words of wisdom for him. Perhaps she'd decided to pass on his training to the waterbenders and felt no more need to lecture him. Instead, she airbended herself onto Rosma's neck, who roared so happily that the ice shook and Hikoshu could see each of his sixty flat teeth. Chian gave him an affectionate pat in response, actually smiling as she rubbed his dark arrow.

"Who's going to keep me from devotionals?" Miyo said forlornly, folding her arms around his chest. He returned the hug with one arm, intent on keeping this as unemotional as possible.

"Don't act like I'm your only excuse. After all, you still have Nirana. And Sinkai." He would've kept naming off the various nuns she called friends, but Miyo prodded him in the ribs as she pulled away.

"I get it. But it's going to be so boring without you."

"It's going to be boring anyway, compared to this autumn," he responded, smiling at her wryly as he urged her to the bison. Chian's happy mood had obviously faded into impatience, though she politely refrained from harassing them just yet. "Waterbending and nomadic devotionals alike."

Still, Miyo dragged her feet, throwing frequent, surreptitious glances past his shoulder. The ice bridge behind them, though, was empty.

"On second thought, maybe I'll be happy for boring," she said with a disappointed sigh, shaking her head as she turned back to the bison. Then, giving Hikoshu one more quick hug and a murmured warning against drowning himself, Miyo leapt into Rosma's saddle, her blue Water Tribe robes floating oddly around her.

"See you in a few months!" she shouted from the top, though he couldn't be sure if that was a promise or a wish. Chian pinned him with a sharp eye, her disdainful frown trying to communicate some final chastisement, and then she tugged on Rosma's reins with a high-pitched '_fra' _noise.

They were then sky-bound, Rosma's figure growing faint against the thin white clouds with every passing moment. Hikoshu watched until he couldn't see anything, unblinking. But then he closed his eyes against the dry arctic air, and when he opened them, they were gone. Just like that, the Western Air Temple and his airbending training nothing more than a memory.

"So they've already left?"

"She was looking for you," Hikoshu said without turning to greet Natquik. "You should've come to see her off."

"It was your time, not mine. I've already said good-bye." The waterbender was now at his side, his hands folded in the pockets of an oddly plain blue coat. He squinted his eyes, straining to see that fading dot, though Hikoshu knew he wouldn't find anything.

"You'll miss her, too."

Natquik nodded. "But I won't worry about her, and you shouldn't either." Then, as if shaking off a troubled thought, he conjured a grin. "After all, you've got a lot more to worry about. Now your waterbending training _really_ begins." The response made Hikoshu grimace.

"Maybe I should focus on earning the Chieftess' good favor first."

"You and me both." He clapped Hikoshu on the shoulder and turned to leave.

"Natquik, can you tell me something?" Hikoshu suddenly said, causing him to pause with a curious glance over his shoulder. "Do morning-crests grow in snow?"

"Actually, funny you should ask. There's a legend about that." Natquik waited for him to catch up before he continued. "A really tragic love story…"

The wind blew cold as the world rolled into Winter.


	54. Epilogue

**_--_**

**_Yuan Ping, Year of the Wolfbat_**

_**13 years into the past**_

**_--_**

The boy, robed in nothing more than the vest and trousers of a peasant, was led from the room by a guard of seven Fire Nation soldiers. He was scared, as Yojing imagined he would be; his tiny frame shook under the imposing shadows of his guards, and his fingers grabbed anxiously at short-cropped hair. But the test was now over, and little did the boy know, the real work would begin. Or perhaps he _was_ aware—as the crimson wood doors of the throne room swung shut behind them, Yojing caught a flash of eyes anticipating the worst. Eyes the color of copper.

"That's him, isn't it?" The voice, deep and resounding, reverberated through Yojing. Kanzagan was perched upon the golden dragon throne just behind him, where he had sat for most of the meeting. Watching. Judging. And though he couldn't know the relevance of the dozens of objects Yojing had spread out on the floor, he did know the importance of the ones the boy selected.

"I can't know without testing the other candidates, but I'm almost certain of it." Yojing knelt on the cold marble floor and began rolling up the red silk brocade, the various toys and trinkets clinking against each other. "He chose far too quickly." And then, there was the look in his eyes. As if he'd seen all of this before…

"Himizu has the other candidates right now," Kanzagan said, and Yojing peered over his shoulder. The Fire Lord was a young man, at least compared to Yojing. He was barely more than thirty—barely old enough to wear that diadem that flashed in his black hair. But he'd already been Fire Lord for fifteen years, and his reign would be longer still.

Yojing nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "I don't imagine you sequestered the least likely child, then."

"The qu-dan said it would be the son of a fisherman."

The qu-dan. The one thing that the Great Sage Himizu did not have at his disposal—the one thing that Kanzagan had had to sacrifice nearly everything for. And without the qu-dan, they would have likely lost the Avatar to the very people who deserved by all rights to have him.

"So what do you want to do with the boy?" Yojing said, cradling the brocade under his arm. "Kill him?"

Kanzagan's expression was bland. "That seems a little counter-productive."

"On the contrary. What could be more productive than stopping the disaster before it begins?"

"Even if we take care of him now, we will simply have to deal with Himizu again in twenty years."

"I'm not talking about Himizu." Yojing's voice was filled with portent, and even he noted how dismal the empty room grew in the wake of his words. "I'm talking about the predictions."

In contrast to his concern, Kanzagan simply sounded pensive. "What? Are you now afraid of dying, old friend?"

"No." He'd lost that fear a long time ago. "I'm afraid for everyone."

Kanzagan's brow darkened at the implication in his words. "You're starting to sound like one of them, Yojing. And I didn't call you back into service so you could work against me."

"You brought me back so that I could control the Avatar." At the protest forming on Kanzagan's lips, he immediately corrected himself. "So I could _protect_ the Avatar, then. Whatever you wish to call it. The fact remains that I shall be the instructor to a tyrant."

"Or to a savior," Kanzagan added. "Remember that she made two predictions, Yojing. There are two paths down which you might lead the child."

"And only one involves my own death." Yojing sighed at that, his eyes trailing back to the door. No, he was not afraid of dying. But he was terrified that in a matter of years, so many fates would be sealed.

History repeating itself. Nothing ever changed.

"Hikoshu should die," Yojing finally said. "And the qu-dan should never be consulted again. We are simply making all of our fates inevitable."

"What is fate but inevitability?" Kanzagan asked rather blithely.

Yojing shook his head. He only wished he knew.

* * *

**A/N: **the updated epilogue! If you missed the original one, and you think you need it (it wasn't very good, so you probably don't), please contact me.


	55. Preview

**Preview for the sequel, _The Silk Washing Stream, _now published.**

* * *

_**A man waits in the darkness…**_

* * *

There were sounds.

He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to hear, or if he had expected to hear anything at all. Alone in the deep night, enclosed in a ring of light that reflected off his shivering skin and his heavy white breaths, he'd waited with gnawing terror for something to break his solitude.

And then there were the sounds.

The crunching of snow approached him, barely audible over a cold wind. Yet it was distinct, unmistakable. Something large that neared with even steps, invisible outside the boundaries of his feeble bone lamp. His breaths became ragged, the white misty puffs irregular, but his hands never left their place along his naked knees, his fingers curled into his palms.

With maddening patience, the crunching drew closer.

It was then that he heard the whispers, creeping above the wind as if an audience of hundreds watched him. They swirled with the snow drifts, dancing along the meager flame, unintelligible and haunting. As he was alone in the tundra, he knew no living person made those whispers—no living creature stalked the darkness. This was how he was sure that his summons had been answered.

How he knew the spirit had come.

The steps ceased just outside the firelight, and he thought that if he strained, he might make out the feet of his new companion. But hours in the cold, stripped of his clothing and all warmth except the oil lamp, had left his muscles frozen and uncooperative. So he sat quietly, his breaths following his teeth, chattering from a chill that wasn't completely due to the snow.

"You have called me." The voice was little more than the wind, but it gurgled and hissed, like water thrown on a hot stone. Something inhuman yet somehow forming human words, and he swallowed hard to staunch the tremor that crawled along his spine—to work spit back into his mouth.

"Yes. I have called you." He lifted his arm in jerks, showing that invisible spirit the thin, blood-encrusted line along the inside of his elbow. "I have requests."

"Need I ask what your request is?" Its voice distorted loudly, and he realized it was laughing. The wind picked up in response, yanking at his flame, and it was as if the darkness laughed at him, as well.

"There is someone who I cannot touch. Someone who stands in the way of something I want."

"I am no ordinary vengeance spirit, child. You would be wise to consider to whom you speak."

"I know exactly who I've summoned, and my request is not ordinary." It was with effort that he kept his voice strong, the tremble in his shoulders threatening his words. "I don't ask for vengeance."

The spirit was intrigued, though nothing in the darkness changed to indicate it. He could simply _feel_ its curiosity. "Power, then? You seek to gain through another's downfall."

"It's for love."

The spirit's laughter bubbled through the night like froth, echoed by a hundred others. "For love. That's a rare request, indeed. Hardly any of my acts may be considered out of 'love.'"

"An ordinary spirit could accomplish what I want, but it'd be easily discovered." His body was numb, but his face felt on fire. Any slip—any sign of weakness—and he would certainly die. "I can't have anyone knowing what I've done. So I call on you. A great spirit such as yourself would never draw suspicion."

"Because they would never suspect one as weak as you could summon me?" He felt his stomach clench at the spirit's words, and his breath caught. "To be sure, I know just how weak you are, waterbender. My presence here is one of curiosity."

He had known it would come down to a battle of wills, but suddenly he didn't feel nearly so confident—so convinced of his success. Before this moment, there was the certainty that his need was strong enough to conquer any barriers. Now, he suspected that even with the most just cause behind him, he would have never dominated the spirit. Still, there was no turning back. He would have to coerce it into helping or risk its anger.

"I am simply a petitioner, great spirit, requesting your aid. It is your decision as to whether or not you will help."

"Give me the name of the one who impedes your 'love' and I will decide then."

He was prepared, lifting a small leather bag from the snow by its thong. This, he held over the flame, watching as the pelt smoldered and burned, the air filling with its acrid smoke. The wind sighed as the spirit breathed deep, and it gave a soft hum like shifting snow.

"The one you seek to harm is protected. He cannot be touched by any spirit."

"Perhaps no ordinary spirit," he said, making sure to keep his tone humble as he bowed his head. "But as you said, you are no mere vengeance spirit. You are one of retribution."

"And has this man done something for which he deserves such?"

"That is for you to judge."

The spirit's laugh was chilling. "Very well. At your request, I will bring 'judgment' to him." A hesitation. "That is, after I attend to more…immediate…matters."

He felt as if ice had slivered down his throat; the situation was quickly slipping out of his control. "I did not command you to—"

"You do not command me at all," the spirit interrupted sharply, its hissing voice filled with wrath. In response, the wind bit into his already numb flesh and stung his eyes. "As I said, you are too weak to control me. What I offer you is in payment for summoning me. And what you have now is a choice. Accept my offer," he could hear its derision, "or tempt my disappointment."

"Then it's not much of a choice at all." The contest was over even before it began. "Do what you will, as long as he is no longer in my way."

"Trust in me, waterbender." The spirit's voice abruptly grew hollow, as if disappearing into a cave. "You will have what you ask."

The wind howled around him and snuffed his candle out.


End file.
